


Reconnecting

by Creej



Category: White Collar
Genre: M/M, Post Anklet, darkish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 10:28:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 39,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10592121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creej/pseuds/Creej
Summary: Things are still strained between Peter, Elizabeth and Neal. Can Peter find it in his heart to let them in again?





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Takes place two years after the events in Drifting Away. Warning: if you love Elizabeth, you may not like this story. She's not the Elizabeth we know from the series by the end. Explanation in the end notes.

John Lassiter looked up from his desk in Greenhill's sheriff's office, expecting Vera Monroe when he heard the door open. Instead, he got a major shock. Instead of Vera, there was a short, balding man with thick black glasses standing there. Someone he hadn't seen or heard from in two years.

The man studied him for a few minutes then seemed to come to a decision.

"May I help you?" John asked.

"Suit," the man said.

"Excuse me?"

The man leaned over the desk. "I know I tended to stay in the background at the beginning of our association but surely you recognize me," the man said. "...Peter."

"The name is John Lassiter," he said.

"That's who you are now," the man said. "I'm the one who found out and told Neal and El."

He felt as if he'd been punched in the gut, hearing those names. "Sit down...Moz," he gritted. "What the hell are you doing here? Did they tell you to come here and try to talk me into going back?"

"They have no idea I'm here," Moz said. "I told Neal I was going to Detroit for a few days."

"I'm not going back," he said. "Elizabeth and I are divorced. There's nothing for me there."

"And you have no idea what they've been through these last two years," Moz said, glowering.

"Trouble in paradise?" he asked cynically. "I went back hoping things would be different but they weren't. They don't need me anymore than you did."

"It's not a question of need," Moz said. "It's a question of want."

"They made what they want very clear," he said. "Each other, not me."

Moz seemed to debate with himself for a few minutes then shrugged. "They're falling apart," he said.

"What?"

"They're falling apart," Moz repeated. "Both are taking on more clients, almost too many for them to handle. I've practically moved in so I can take care of Louis and Satchmo."

"Beats you moving from safehouse to safehouse, doesn't it?"

"I've never minded that," Moz said. "Kept me off the radar and it kept things interesting."

"So what do you think I can do?" he asked. "I can't make them work less. Hell, I barely registered on their radar. Like I said, nothing changed. I was on the outside, where they wanted me."

"I amend my earlier statement," Moz said. "They do need you. When I said they're falling apart, I meant that without you they have no one to focus around. You're what kept them together."

He snorted derisively. "Don't try to con me, Moz," he said. "I learned from the best. "I've conned the best. They were fine for a year and a half without me there."

"When they had hope you'd come back," Moz said.

"I did go back," he said. "Less than six months later I was on the outside again. What I think is going on is they don't have anyone to laugh at behind their back, someone they can pity or deride for not being as 'sophisticated' as they are. I may have worked white collar but I'm too blue collar for them."

Moz glowered. "How could someone so dense have been smart enough to catch Neal Caffrey?" he asked.

"Yeah, I caught Neal. Twice," he said. "So I know how he thinks. I was married to Elizabeth for more than a decade so I know how *she* thinks. I knew they were both out of my league but I loved them both. I thought they loved me..."

"They do," Moz interrupted.

"That may be," he said. "But not as much as they love each other. They chose each other over me. They made that clear. I'm not going to be the one holding them together, especially if that's the only reason they want me back. So you can just go back and tell them I haven't changed my mind. They can find someone else."

"Johnny?"

He and Moz both turned to the door to see Vera.

"Substitute?" Moz asked, brows raised.

He glowered at him. "Unlike Neal, I wasn't looking for one," he said.

"Oh, there you are," Vera said. "We're still on for lunch, aren't we?"

"Of course," he said. "Be just a minute. If you'll wait for me outside while I finish taking this man's statement..."

"I'll meet you at Jilly's," Vera said.

"Sounds good," he said. "I'll be there shortly." Once she left, he turned back to Moz. "Now, I suggest you go back to the city and tell them it didn't work. They made their choice and it wasn't me. If it's blowing up in their faces, not my problem."

Moz stood. "I'll do that but don't be surprised if one or both of them pay you a visit sometime in the near future."

"If so, I'll tell them the same thing," he said.

"Suit," Moz said as he turned and left, missing the glower aimed at his back.

WCWCWCWC

He tried his best to put Moz's visit out of his mind but Vera noticed his preoccupation. "What's wrong?' she asked. "You seem distracted."

"Sorry," he said.

"Is it that man who was in the office earlier?"

God, she was just as intuitive as Elizabeth was. He sighed. "He was someone I knew. A long time ago," he said. "Brought back some unpleasant memories."

"So why was he here?"

"He seemed to think I was the solution to a problem a couple of friends of his are having," he said. "I told him he was wrong."

"Was he?" she asked. "About you being the solution."

He looked into her eyes - a shade of blue somewhere between Elizabeth's and Neal's - and said, "He implied I was the problem. And yes, he was wrong about me being the solution."

"So, anything new happening in Greenhill?" she asked, changing the subject.

He laughed softly. "Besides my unexpected visitor? Not a thing unless you count the classic movie that's playing," he said.

"What's playing?"

"You like vampire movies?"

"They're showing Dracula?" Vera asked.

"Even older than that," he said. "Nosferatu."

"Don't think I've heard of that one," Vera said.

"Silent film from the early twenties," he said. "Considered the first vampire movie ever made."

"Is it any good?"

He shrugged. "I think so," he said. "Special effects are kind of obvious but considering it was made almost a hundred years ago..." He paused. "Interested?"

Vera smiled. "It's a date," she said.

"This Friday," he said. "Pick you up about six. Good?"

"I'll be ready."

WCWCWCWC

"Sorry mon frere," Moz said as he and Neal ate lunch at one of Neal's favorite cafes. "I tried."

Neal sighed. "Thanks anyway Moz," he said. "I guess we were still hoping he'd change his mind."

"After two years?"

"There was still that chance," Neal said.

There was silence for a few minutes then Moz asked, "So, how are things with you and El?" I mean, things seem okay..."

"That's all it is," Neal said. "Just...okay. It hasn't been the same since Peter left."

"So he was what was holding you together."

"I guess he was," Neal said. "And we drove him away. Twice." He sat back with a sigh. "So, what else did you find out?"

"Sure you want to know?"

"Might as well."

"He's a deputy sheriff, part time," Moz said. "For the last two years from what I was able to find out. And..." He paused.

"And what? Tell me, Moz."

"He has a girlfriend," Moz said reluctantly.

"Who is she?"

"Didn't get her name," Moz said. "We weren't introduced."

"What does she look like?" Neal asked though he had his suspicions.

"You know he has a type," Moz said.

"Brown hair, blue eyes, kinda petite? Substitute for Elizabeth?"

"He said that, unlike you, he wasn't looking for one," Moz said.

"He still thinks Elizabeth is a substitute for Kate?" Neal asked. "They're nothing alike. I know now that Kate wasn't really interested in me, just what I had, what I could get her. Elizabeth can get what she wants without my help."

"Except her husband."

"Ex husband," Neal corrected.

Moz studied his friend for a long moment. "Do you still love him?" he asked quietly. "Or do you want him back so you can keep El, like he thinks?"

Neal took a long time answering even though there was only one. "Both," he said. "We just don't work without him."

"What about Elizabeth? Does she feel the same way?"

"Haven't really talked to her lately," Neal said. "We're both so busy. She's gone to San Francisco so often that Yvonne practically runs the New York office on her own."

"If you maintain the status quo you'll never get him back," Moz said.

"So you think there's still a chance."

"For the world's greatest conman, there's always a chance," Moz said. "If that's what you want. But... you should ask yourself why you want him back. Is it more for him or more to keep Elizabeth?'

"You're saying I have to choose," Neal said.

"Just like you had to choose between staying here or going with Kate," Moz said.

"That choice was made for me," Neal said. "Adler had that plane rigged to explode."

"After you and Kate bailed," Moz said. "You still had the choice to go or not."

Neal heaved a sigh, checking his watch. "I have a client meeting in half an hour," he said. "I have to go."

"Think about what I said," Moz said as Neal rose and tossed a tip on the table. "And for what it's worth, I think he still loves you. He's angry but he still loves you."

WCWCWCWC

"So, did Moz find out anything?" Elizabeth asked over dinner.

"He's back in law enforcement," Neal said, topping off their wineglasses. "Part time deputy."

"There's something else," Elizabeth said.

"He has a girlfriend."

"So, that's that then," Elizabeth said. "He's not coming back."

"Moz seems to think he might," Neal said. "That he still loves us..." He hesitated a moment. "Moz asked me why I wanted him back. Is it for him or is it just a way to keep you? I think we both need to answer that question. Why do we really want him back?"

"Do you love me?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yes," Neal said.

"Do you love him?"

"Yes. And you?"

"Yes to both," Elizabeth said. "We may be divorced but that doesn't mean I stopped loving him."

"But we don't really work without him, do we? From the very beginning of this, he was the focus," Neal said. "And it took his leaving to really understand that."

"So what do we do?" Elizabeth asked.

"We try again," Neal said.

 

WCWCWCWC

As soon as his key slotted into the lock, he knew something was off. Hand on the butt of his gun, he cautiously opened the door, stopping dead when he saw who was in his house, in his chair.

"Hard day at the office?"

"What are you doing here, Neal?" he asked, tossing his keys on the entryway table before grabbing a beer.

"What? No 'Hello. I've missed you'?" Neal asked.

"Did you?" he asked "I assume you talked to Moz."

"I did," Neal said. "And you accused me of finding a substitute." He was startled when he found himself caged by a pair of strong arms and confronted by an angry face.

"Vera is not a substitute or a replacement," he said. "Just because she looks a little like Elizabeth doesn't mean she is. I don't expect her to be."

"And I never expected Elizabeth to be Kate," Neal said.

He straightened. "Why are you here?"

"To see if you've changed your mind."

"No, I haven't," he said. "I'm not going back just so you and Elizabeth can stay together."

"That's nor why we want you back," Neal said.

"Isn't it?" he asked. "Moz told me you're falling apart. I guess keeping me on the outside is what really kept you together." He went to look out a back window.

"Do you still love us?" Neal asked, coming up behind him.

"What difference does that make? It didn't change anything the last time," he said.

"Because none of us tried hard enough. Including you."

"I told you I might not be able to open myself up to you," he said.

"Did you try?" Neal asked.

"Yes, I did," he said. "But it didn't matter. You showed me what you really wanted without really knowing you did."

"What do you mean?'

"While you two were asleep," he said. "I remember plenty of times waking up because one of you crawled over me and reaching for each other. Yeah, you may have noticed if I left the bed but regardless of how long I was gone, you were both sound asleep when I got back....wrapped around each other."

"But we still love you," Neal said. "I wish we could just turn it off but it doesn't work like that."

"We've done this before," he said. "Why should I believe things will be any different?"

"You can't give us another chance?"

"Another chance to do what? Push me aside? Show me how little you need me? Another chance to rip my heart out?"

"Do you still love us?" Neal asked.

He dropped his gaze. turning back to the window. "Like you said, you can't just turn it off," he said.

He flinched a little as a hand came down on his shoulder and Neal turned him around. He saw the love in those blue eyes but couldn't let himself believe it.

"I love you, Peter Burke," Neal said, cupping his face. "I have for a long time. Probably since the moment I stepped out of prison with that anklet strapped on. I just didn't want to admit it."

"But you love Elizabeth more."

"I love her no more than I love you," Neal said. "No more, no less. I want you to come home, not to keep her but to have you."

"And I told you," he said, pulling away. "I am home. I have a life here, one that doesn't include people shutting me out because I don't fit."

"Peter...please!" Neal said, catching his shoulder again.

"Neal..."

He stopped when Neal took his mouth, his tongue invading, tasting him. He felt the need, the desperation... the love Neal poured into the kiss and found himself pulling the younger man tight against him. taking control and hearing a choked sob of relief. He wasn't sure if it came from him or Neal and he wasn't sure if he cared.

He pulled away, bringing their foreheads together. "You and El are the only ones who could break my heart," he whispered. "And you almost did."

"We're sorry. I'm sorry," Neal said."You're the last person I ever wanted to hurt."

"I can't go through it again," he said. "It almost broke me the last time."

Neal was quiet a moment. "I missed this," he said. "So much. Holding you close, just being with you."

He closed his eyes and sighed. "Me, too," he said. "But it just hurt so much, seeing you two together, knowing I wasn't really with you."

"We want you back," Neal said. "Nothing's been the same since you left. Not me, not El, not *us*. Nothing. Hell, I've even started listening to baseball just so I could pretend you were there." He gave him a light, almost chaste kiss. "Please. Come home to us."

He set Neal back. "I don't know if I can live in the city again," he said. "And I know neither of you could live here - not with your businesses. And a six hour drive isn't exactly convenient."

"Yeah," Neal sighed. "Well, it's getting late. I should go."

Neal was almost at the door when he said, "Stay." At his inquisitive look he added, "Stay for dinner... and..."

"Really?" Neal asked, hearing the unspoken invitation.

"You'll have to wear the same clothes tomorrow," he said.

"Actually, I have a bag in the car," Neal said. "I came straight here."

"Does Elizabeth know?"

"She's in San Francisco until the end of the week," Neal said.

"And how long were you planning to stay?"

"Until the end of the week," Neal said.

"So you gave yourself four days to try and change my mind?"

"I was going to try," Neal said. "But honestly, I don't know if I can. You left because we hurt you and because you thought it was the right thing to do. And if there's anything I know about you it's you do the right thing no matter if it hurts you."

"Go, get your bag," he said. "I'll start dinner."

WCWCWCWC

"That was delicious," Neal said, taking a sip of beer. "You've expanded your repertoire."

"You'd be surprised what I've learned to do," he said. "This table? I made it when the other one started falling apart."

Neal glanced between the table and the back door. "How'd you get it in here? Or did you build it here in the kitchen?"

"Out back, in the shed. Carl helped me get it inside," he said.

"Carl?"

"The sheriff. My boss."

"You really like it here, don't you?"

"I do," he said. "Less hectic, not much crime, people are friendly."

"And your girlfriend?"

"I never said Vera was my girlfriend," he said. "Moz just made that assumption when she stopped by the office to see if we were still on for lunch. Kinda sloppy for an exconman to make assumptions."

"So it's not serious with you two?"

He shrugged. "We've been on a few dates," he said. "Lunch, the occasional dinner."

Neal fiddled with his beer bottle. "If it weren't for me, for Elizabeth...could it be serious?" he asked, not looking up.

"If I'd never met either of you...possibly," he said. "As it is, I'm just not ready for serious. Vera's fine with that. I don't think she's ready for serious either."

They stood and gathered the dishes, spending a few minutes washing and drying. Their hands met as they put the plates back in the cupboard and Neal suddenly found himself in a hard embrace, his mouth plundered and he pressed closer, hearing the older man's moan as he felt his arousal.

"Please..." Neal whispered.

He replied by making short work of Neal's shirt as he pulled him toward the bedroom. His shirt followed as did their jeans and boxers, shoes and socks. He pinned Neal to the bed, hands over his head. "My turn," he said before latching onto his neck where it met his shoulder, causing Neal to arch up against him. Without warning, he took him fully into his mouth, holding him still with a firm grip on the younger man's hips.

"Peter...Peter, I won't..." Neal gasped. "Please..." Then it was too late. He was vaguely aware of being released from moist warmth then of a welcome, familiar weight beside him.

"My turn," Neal said once he caught his breath. He straddled him, reaching over to ruffle through his bag.

"Optimistic?"

"Prepared," Neal said.

The preparation was quick but thorough and soon Neal was lowering himself onto him. He bucked up, causing Neal to shudder and stop as he regained control. He gazed up into those blue eyes, blown with desire and arousal and sat up, capturing Neal's mouth in a deep kiss. He reached between them and grasped Neal's hardness, stroking firmly, making Neal gasp. He flipped them over and began thrusting hard as Neal wrapped his legs around his waist, meeting him with each stroke. Soon, Neal's breathing became ragged and he stiffened under him and he claimed his mouth in a bruising kiss as he let go, feeling Neal follow him. Neal cupped his face, bringing his gaze up to meet his. "Do you have any idea how much I missed that?" he asked.

"Not as much as I have," he said.

He rolled off to the side and Neal curled up around him, twining their legs and laying his head on his shoulder. Neal broke the silence that followed, saying, "I'm sorry we did this to you. Sorry we hurt you so badly. I wish I knew how to make it right."

"Honestly, I don't know if you can," he said. "I just don't think I belong with you, not like Elizabeth does."

"But we don't work without you," Neal said. "Not really. I think El and I are too much alike to really work."

"But that's what brought you together," he said.

"No, you brought us together," Neal said. "She thought the three of us could work. And you agreed."

"And where are you in all that?"

"Happily going along for the ride," Neal said. He lifted up to look at him. "I loved you first, you know," he said. "I figured Elizabeth was just a bonus. I never thought I'd fall in love with her too. You thought I had to take you to have her but at the beginning of this, I thought I had to take her to have you. You were a matched set so if that was what it took to get what I wanted, I was okay with that." He closed his eyes as Neal caressed his face then grasped his hand, pressing a kiss into the palm. "We both love you," Neal said. "We both want you, both need you. We want you back, not to fill the empty spaces but because you belong with us, belong to us. Just like we belong to you and with you."

"I want to believe that," he said. "But I'm not sure I can. Or should. It just hurt too much, seeing the two people who mean the most to me act like I wasn't even there."

Neal was silent for a while, tracing invisible patterns on his chest and stomach. "I think... when you came back, it was habit. We weren't used to you having you there," he said. "Before you left the first time, we got caught up in what interested us, not really thinking about how you felt."

"And at night?"

"We fit," Neal said. "I guess it was more comfortable for us - you're not exactly a small man. Then, when you came back, it was habit again. If we excluded you, it wasn't because we meant to." He sighed. "I won't lie to you - I never have - but yes, you were what kept me and Elizabeth together. Without you, we're drifting apart. We need you to focus on so we can focus on each other. You're the contrast we need. Black to white, light to shade. It was habit, what happened but we didn't try hard enough to break it."

"Do you think Elizabeth would be willing to try?" he asked.

"Yes," Neal said immediately.

"You know I won't go back to the city," he said. "I'm not going to give up my life here."

"I think it would be selfish of us to expect you to," Neal said.

"You'd be okay with long distance?" he asked.

"I'd rather have you with us but if that's what it takes to keep you then I can live with it," Neal said.

"And Elizabeth?'

"I can't answer for her," Neal said. He settled closer, closing his eyes. "This is how it should be," he said. "You in our arms, us in yours. I'm sorry we took that from you. Made you doubt." He paused then asked, "You'll stay?'

"Where would I go?" he asked. "I'll be here. Go to sleep."

WCWCWCWC

He slept fitfully, not used to having someone in the bed with him. Once he was sure Neal was asleep, he carefully got up and slipped on a robe. Quietly, he went out back, settling in his lounger. He admitted he liked having Neal in his bed again after all that time but he knew if he wanted to keep him he'd have to take Elizabeth as well.

In a way, it had hurt more when she'd shut him out. After all, they'd been married more than a decade. She'd been there the entire time he'd been obsessed with catching Neal, and all through his working with Neal when he was on probation. She'd accepted and shared his attraction to the former conman, she who'd given her permission to pursue it. But then to shut him out in favor of that former conman - yeah, it cut deep. They'd had the history but Elizabeth had seemingly tossed it aside the more Neal had become part of their lives.

He was brought out of his thoughts when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"What's wrong?' Neal asked.

"Not used to sharing a bed," he said.

"I see," Neal said. "I can sleep on the couch if you want."

"No. No, it's fine," he said.

Neal drew up another chair and sat beside him. "You know, before we found you, I have to admit I was impressed at how well you'd covered your tracks," he said. "Lump sum on your pension, the cashier's check from that old account, paying cash for this place. You learn from me?"

"Some of it," he said. "I knew early on that you were leaving me a trail. Taunting me a little probably since it wasn't obvious. The rest I learned from the criminals we went after. How many times did we catch someone because they left a money trail? Or because someone forgot to clear their computer history? Or not clear it good enough?"

"And your IDs?"

"We both know how close-mouthed the forger community is," he said. "They roll over, it's bad for business. How'd you find who I used?"

"Moz did," Neal said. "He still has closer ties than I do. And from what he said, he may have used some of his influence to put pressure on the one who did the work."

He nodded. "I knew that was the one weak spot," he said. "But I honestly thought you wouldn't care, that you would only look for appearances sake and once enough time had passed you'd let it go, leave me be. So it was something of a shock when you showed up in town."

"You knew we were here?"

"I saw you go into the sheriff's office," he said. "I was in town doing some shopping." He let out a breath of amusement. "Christie, Carl's daughter, thinks you're pretty."

Neal ran a hand through his hair. "Obviously she wasn't close enough to see the gray," he said.

"You can barely see it," he said.

"I noticed you have a bit," Neal said, running his fingers through the beard he'd regrown.

"Doesn't surprise me," he said. "You helped put it there."

Neal laughed softly. "I'll admit to doing my part," he said. "I refuse to take the blame for all of it." He caressed his face. "It looks good," he said.

He reached over and took Neal's hand, entwining their fingers, pulling lightly. Neal took the hint and straddled his lap, laying his head on his shoulder and he slid his hands under the robe Neal wore, running his palms over the well-defined muscles of his chest then making Neal gasp when he wrapped a hand around his cock.

"Peter...?"

"One thing about living here," he whispered in his ear. "Lots of privacy."

Neal's fingers dug into his shoulders as he stroked him, planting light kisses along his neck and jaw before capturing his mouth. His other hand gripped Neal's thigh as he began thrusting into his hand. It lasted longer that time and Neal collapsed against him, breathing heavily.

"Is this how it's going to be the entire time I'm here?" Neal asked once he recovered.

"It could be," he said, brushing the younger man's hair back. "I missed this more than I let on, more than I wanted to admit. I remember all those times it was just us when Elizabeth was in San Francisco."

Neal smiled. "So do I. We only got out of bed when we had to," he said.

He smiled in return but it soon faded. "Then, when she got back, she practically shoved me aside to get to you," he said.

Neal brought their foreheads together and said, "I know I've said this before and it doesn't change anything but I'm sorry."

"Who would you choose? If you had to?" he asked.

"Peter..."

"Hypothetically."

Neal was quiet for a long moment as he studied him. "I asked Elizabeth much the same thing when we were still looking for you," he said. "She asked me not to make her choose. Are you asking me to?"

"And if I was?"

"Peter... I..." Neal closed his eyes. "If I had to choose," he said finally. "I'd choose you."

"Hypothetically?"

"No. But please... don't make me," he said. "Not again."

He knew what Neal meant. He'd asked the younger man to choose before - between him and Kate. Of course, at the time, Neal had thought it was a choice between a life as Neal Caffrey, FBI consultant and a life as someone else with a woman he thought loved him.

"No, I won't make you choose," he said.

Neal brought their mouths together in a kiss that was soft and sensual, tongues flirting with each other. Unsurprisingly, both men responded and Neal slipped off his lap and opened his robe. "My turn," he said before nearly swallowing him whole.

His fingers dug into Neal's shoulders as his mouth and tongue teased him, keeping him on the edge. "Neal..."

He barely gasped out a warning and Neal nodded, pushing him over the edge. Neal leaned over him, capturing his mouth and he tasted himself. "Now, if you had to choose, who would it be?" Neal asked softly, releasing him.

"Are you asking me to leave Elizabeth?" he asked.

"You already did," Neal said. "I was there when she was served."

"I did that so you could be together," he said. "I left both of you."

"And set us adrift," Neal said. "I told you, we don't work without you."

"It seemed like you did," he said. "When I went back."

"You're never gonna get past that, are you?" Neal asked.

"I don't know if I can," he said. "Every time I remember... have you any idea how much it hurt to see my wife - of more than ten years - practically shove me out of the way to get to another man? After all that time together... it was like it didn't matter, like it meant nothing." He drew a deep breath, cupping Neal's face, smiling a little when he leaned into it. "But I think I know why it was," he said. "You were new and exciting, you brought something different."

"The whole 'international man of mystery' thing?" Neal asked.

He huffed out a laugh. "Something like that," he said then sobered. "If that was it, I can understand it but it still hurts, knowing that the woman I love, the woman I'd pledged my life to could so easily push me aside. I know I'm not the most exciting person, my job kept me out to all hours. I'm blue collar, just like my dad was despite my job. You and Elizabeth are both out of my league and I knew that. Seeing you and her together just made it real. I only know about what interests you because it was part of the job.

"But that's part of why we love you Peter," Neal said. "At least part of why I love you. You're down to earth and you don't apologize for it. How many times did you reel me in when a sting I suggested was too out there?"

"I had to reel you in plenty regardless," he said.

"And I'm glad you did," Neal said. "Otherwise I'd have ended up in prison again." He placed a gentle, almost chaste kiss on his lips. "In prison, away from the tough as nails FBI agent I was falling hard for."

"Even when Kate was out there?"

"I thought I loved her," Neal said. "I didn't want to give up on all the plans we'd made before Adler took everything away from us. I thought she felt the same way. I know now she didn't. Not really."

"What gave it away?"

"When she wouldn't tell me what Adler wanted," Neal said. "That call I got after the boiler room scam, with Avery and Reed? It was Kate. I asked her what he wanted and she wouldn't tell me, just warned me that someone in the Bureau was after me."

"Fowler."

"Fowler was looking for the music box for Adler," Neal said. "But you know that. That wasn't the only time I'd heard from her. The first time she asked me to tell her where I'd hidden everything - the art, the money, the bonds. I know she thought I had the music box - everybody did. But say I had it at the time. Adler gets it but what happens to the rest of it if I'd told her?"

"She would have probably taken it," he said.

Neal nodded. "And Adler would have had no reason to keep me alive," he said. "Kate knew him as well as I did. She'd have known it was a possibility. I'm not glad she's dead but I wish she hadn't tried to use me to get rich." He gave him a deeper, longer kiss then added, "And that's something I know you wouldn't even think of doing. You wanted just me, not what I could give you."

"What I want can't be bought," he said.

"And what you want from me is yours for the taking," Neal said. "All you have to do is ask." He sighed, laying his head on his shoulder. "I love you Peter Burke and I don't think there's anything I wouldn't do for you."

WCWCWCWC

Neal woke to the smell of fresh brewed coffee and frowned, wondering why he was in a strange bed. Then the night before came back to him and he smiled. After finishing in the bathroom, he slipped on his robe and went into the living room to find him in the kitchen, fully dressed and making breakfast.

"You were up early," Neal said as he sat down at the table.

"Habit," he said, putting a plate in front of him along with a mug of coffee.

"Why didn't you wake me?" Neal asked.

"You had a long drive yesterday." he said. "I figured you needed the sleep."

"It wasn't just a long drive I had yesterday," Neal said. He reached across the table and grasped his hand. "I missed it, you know? Having you next to me at night, knowing you'll be there when I wake up."

"I missed it too," he said.

"So, what are your plans today?" Neal asked, changing the subject.

"Don't have any really," he said. "But I have duty tomorrow since Carl and Devon are off."

"No plans with Vera?"

"Vera's just a friend," he said. "No benefits, although to be honest I was hoping there might be. But Like I said, neither of us are ready for serious." He regarded the younger man for a moment then said, "You knew Moz was coming here."

Neal sighed, putting his fork down. "Yeah, I knew," he said. "But I didn't ask him to. Neither did Elizabeth. We hoped you'd talk to him since you didn't want to talk to us. He's the one who told me about Vera, that you'd gotten back into law enforcement." A smile touched his mouth when he asked, "So, how do you like it?"

"Like I said, not much crime here," he said. "I don't have to deal with budget meetings or paperwork - not much anyway. I get home at a decent hour most days."

"Nothing like before?"

"There was one incident about eight months ago," he said. "Town had gotten a new auditor, someone from out of town. Tried to embezzle money from the general fund. The treasurer noticed something was wrong with the numbers but couldn't figure out where the money was going."

"So your accounting degree came in handy again," Neal said. "Like it did at Novice Systems."

"Fortunately I didn't have to deal with being poisoned this time around," he said.

"So where was the money going?"

"Personal account in Montpelier," he said. "She didn't get much, at least by white collar standards but in a town this size - they can use every penny they get."

Faintly they heard a phone ring and Neal got up. "That's mine," he said.

He listened with half an ear as he cleared the table and did the dishes. From what he could hear of Neal's side of the conversation, he was talking to Elizabeth.

"I'll be back in a few days," Neal said, as he came back, buttoning his shirt. "Yes, I know I had a client meeting but I put it off, citing a family emergency." He listened for a minute then said, "You'll be back when? Monday? I thought you'd be back by the weekend. All right, see you then."

"Problem?" he asked.

"Not really," Neal said with a sigh. "Elizabeth picked up a last minute client in San Francisco and won't get back until Monday."

"Think you can handle a week in sleepy Greenhill, Vermont?" he asked.

"Sure," Neal said. "Didn't see much the last time I was here. Show me around?"

"Not much to see," he said. "But you're in luck because this weekend is Greenhill's art festival. Maybe you could check out the local talent." He paused a moment. "Does Elizabeth know you're here?"

"I think she suspects," Neal said. "I didn't tell her I was coming up here."

By mutual agreement, they moved into the back yard, seating themselves in the loungers. Or rather, he sat in a lounger and pulled Neal between his legs, wrapping his arms around his waist. "So, what client meeting did you blow off to come here? And will it hurt your business?"

"I was just one they were looking at," Neal said. "And no, it won't hurt if they go with someone else. I doubt they could have afforded me anyway."

When Neal relaxed back against him, he couldn't resist planting light kisses on his neck and jaw as his hand dipped below his waist, finding him more than half hard.

"Peter..." Neal breathed, his eyes drifting shut as he gripped the thighs under his hands.

He said nothing, just turned Neal's face toward him and captured his mouth. Neal opened his mouth without hesitation, inviting him in, twisting around so he straddled him as he had the night before.

As his hands fell to Neal's hips, Neal began rubbing against him, drawing a gasp from him.

"Neal..."

Neal drew back slightly. "A lot of time to make up," he said, freeing them both. "Two years. Two years of not having you beside me, two years of not kissing you, tasting you, having you inside me, touching you... let me." Unfortunately they were interrupted.

"Johnny?"

"Vera," he said as they made themselves presentable. "Back here!"

"Oh! I didn't realize you had company," Vera said, seeing Neal. "I can come back later..."

"No, that's all right," he said. "Vera, this is Neal Caffrey. Neal, Vera Monroe.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Caffrey," Vera said, taking the hand he extended.

"Please, call me Neal."

"So, what brings you by?" he asked.

"Carl called me to say he's firing up the grill this Friday and, since this is on my way, he asked me to ask you if you'll be able to make it. Also to remind you about this weekend."

"What about this weekend?"

"The art festival," Vera said. "Seems last year someone from New York was here and wrote a story. Carl expects more of a crowd this year."

"So he needs us all to work this weekend," he said. "Crowd control."

"Did you have plans this weekend?" Vera asked with a glance at Neal.

"I was going to show Neal around. Show him some of the local talent..."

"I'm sure I'll be fine on my own, John, " Neal said.

"Are you an artist as well, Mr. Caffrey?" Vera asked.

"I dabble," Neal said.

He barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes at Neal's statement. "He's usually not so modest," he said. "I've seen his work. It's very good."

"Will you be showing anything Mr. Caffrey?"

"No, I came to visit John," Neal said. "But perhaps next year."

Vera stood, ready to leave. "It was nice meeting you Mr. Caffrey," she said, shaking his hand. "Hope you enjoy your stay.

"A pleasure meeting you as well," Neal said. "And I'm sure I will."

He could see the speculative look on Neal's face after Vera left and forestalled the comment. "Don't say it, Neal," he said. "Yes, she looks a little like Elizabeth but that's coincidental."

"Well, you do have a type," Neal said. "Seems nice enough. What does she do?"

"Bank manager," he said. "Next town over. About fifteen miles away."

"So, about this art festival..."

"Starts Saturday morning, runs through Sunday evening," he said. "It's more than just art though. There'll be street vendors, crafts and a concert Saturday evening."

"Sounds nice," Neal said. He got up, straddling his lap again. "Know what else sounds nice?"

"I think I can guess," he said. He cupped a hand around Neal's head and pulled him forward, thrusting his tongue into Neal's mouth, shivering when he moaned softly.

Neal took control, pressing hard against him, his arousal obvious. "Peter..." he breathed, worming his hand between them. he pulled back just enough to free them both and wrapped his hand around them, stroking firmly.

He pulled Neal back in, kissing him hard, reaching down to cover Neal's hand. He slowed then stopped his hand, eliciting a sound of protest. "You know, " he murmured. "I've long suspected that you could come just from kissing."

"And what made you suspect?" Neal asked breathlessly, trying to rub against him.

He held him still. "I don't know," he said. "Maybe the way you got rock hard whenever we did."

"Well, I have to admit...you have a ...very...talented mouth," Neal said. He leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "And I can't help but think of how that mouth feels wrapped around me, sucking me off..."

His eyes darkened, seeing Neal's blown with arousal. Neal was so far gone at that point he knew it wouldn't take much to push him over the edge. "Are you close?" he asked softly, slowly stroking the other man's cock.

Neal choked out a groan. "Knife edge," he said. "Peter, please."

He watched as Neal continued to come apart, enjoying the feeling of power he had, knowing he could reduce the normally glib ex-conman to incoherence. He brushed his lips against Neal's, his tongue dipping between, barely feeling Neal's fingers dig into his shoulders as he shuddered in release. Neal surged forward and kissed him hard, devouring his mouth then slithered to the ground and swallowed him whole, causing him to arch back against the seat. He found his fingers tangled in Neal's thick hair as he began thrusting into his mouth. As always, he was surprised when Neal took all of him and the look of bliss on his face soon sent him over the edge.

"Come on, let's get cleaned up," he said once he recovered.

It would have turned into round two - Neal seemed insatiable - but he stripped Neal bare and pushed him into the shower, saying, "I'm going to make lunch." As much as he was tempted to, he refrained from joining Neal in the shower and put together a light lunch, finishing as Neal joined him.

Halfway through, his phone rang. With a sigh, he answered it. At Neal's inquiring look, he mouthed "Carl, my boss."

"John. Sorry to bother you on your day off but we have a problem. Some kids broke into the old McAllister place and one got stuck. Can you...?

"Give me twenty," he said.

"Problem?" Neal asked.

"Nothing serious...I hope," he said. "Some kids got nosy and ended up in some trouble. If you could...

"I'll clean up here," Neal said. "I'll be fine."

He nodded his thanks, gathered what he needed and left.

WCWCWCWC

"This place is boarded up for a reason," he said, checking a twelve year old boy for injuries. He'd gotten caught when the first floor had given way and had fallen through to the basement. Fortunately the floor there had been dirt and he'd escaped with just scratches and a few bruises. "You're fine," he said, giving him a small push toward his mother. "Next time, watch your step."

"Yes sir, Mr. Lassiter, sir," the boy said.

"There won't be a next time, will there Blaine?"

As they left, Carl came up beside him. "Sorry to drag you out here on your day off," he said. "Vera said you had company."

"We've known each other a long time," he said. "He knows how it is."

"He's law enforcement too?"

"Not exactly," he said, wondering how much to say, then mentally shrugged. "He was a CI, worked with the FBI for a few years."

"FBI? Really? So how do you know him?"

He sighed. "He was my CI," he said.

"You never said you were with the Bureau."

"No, I didn't," he said. "I said I was in law enforcement - and I was."

"So what'd you do? And why'd you leave?" Carl asked.

"I was with the White Collar division. Financial crimes, art crimes," he said. "And I left because the work became tedious. Spent most of my time doing paperwork and chasing embezzlers and fraudsters. Only so long before it's just mind-numbing."

"How about when you started?"

He smiled. "Well, everything's exciting for a probie fresh out of Quantico," he said.

"New York a hotbed for that? White collar crime?"

"More than you'd think."

"So, any case that sticks our for you?" You said you were involved with art crimes."

"There is one that sticks out," he said. "My former CI's. Practically made my career. He was a con artist suspected in bond forgery, art forgery, art theft and half a dozen confidence schemes. Took me three years to catch him."

"Three years? Slippery," Carl said.

"You don't know the half of it," he said. "He was a cocky, arrogant son of a bitch but charming as hell and non violent. Hates guns."

"So how'd you catch him?'

"His one weak spot," he said. "His girlfriend. He was sentenced to four years for the one charge we could make stick - bond forgery. Three months short of completing his time he escapes because he thought the girlfriend was in serious trouble. I get called in to find him since I was the only one to even get close to catching him before. Less than a day later, he's back behind bars with another four years added."

"So, how'd he become your CI?"

"He offered his help in catching another forger, someone we'd named The Dutchman. This was after he gave me a major lead in a counterfeiting operation. We shut that down and I got him out on a work release - he served his time helping the Bureau put others like him away."

"Huh, must have been interesting," Carl said.

"Kept me on my toes," he said.

"You miss it? Cases like that?"

"Sometimes," he said. "We had other cases like his but none so... satisfying when we closed them. I had a good team."

"And your closure rate?"

"Higher than the rest of the Bureau," he said."

"John... come on, you can brag a little."

He sighed, smiling a little. "Ninety four percent," he said. "Due in no small part to my CI. He's brilliant, gave us the view from the other side, showed us how these scams and heists were done. My team learned a lot from him."

"Well, I'll let you get home now," Carl said. "Enjoy the rest of your time off."

"I will," he said then something occurred to him. "Just do me a favor will you? Don't look up anything I told you, okay?" Carl looked about to protest and he added, "I know you, Carl. You're curious."

"After what you told me, of course I am," Carl said then sighed. "All right, no snooping. Doubt I could find out anything anyway. Aren't Bureau records classified?"

"The particulars are," he said. "But we closed some rather high profile cases and my CI was one of them. He wouldn't appreciate his past being dug up now that he's gone straight." That wasn't entirely true - Neal was proud of what he'd done and even all these years later, the satisfaction of having eluded the FBI - of eluding him - for years stayed with him. But Neal had gone straight and had settled into the life of a law abiding citizen.

When he got home, he found Neal out back in one of the loungers with a sketchpad in his lap, busily working on something. He looked over his shoulder, staying quiet so he wouldn't disturb him. Neal added a bit of shading, put the pencil down and asked, "Everything all right?"

"Yeah, fine," he said, taking a seat beside him. "Some kids, abandoned house, rotten floors."

"Any injuries?" Neal asked, concerned.

"None serious," he said. "Bumps and bruises." He gestured to the sketchpad. "What are you working on?"

Wordlessly, Neal handed him the sketch. It was of him, Elizabeth and Neal in a scene so domestic that it would have put Norman Rockwell to shame. "At least it's G-rated," he said, handing it back. Neal pushed it back and flipped to an earlier page. This one was just short of X-rated, showing Elizabeth propped up against the headboard, legs spread as Neal - it had to be Neal - pleasured her. Behind Neal was him, thrusting firmly into him, a look of bliss on their faces. He looked at Neal, brows raised.

"What can I say?" Neal asked. "One of my favorite memories. And I was thinking of showing something in the art festival this weekend."

"Not this," he said.

"No, that stays private," Neal said. "I was thinking...this." He paged back, stopping on one of the view he'd had when he still lived at June's, the Chrysler Building front and center.

"Still stay in touch?" he asked, handing the sketchpad back.

"We see each other occasionally when she's attending an event where my company is handling security," Neal said. "And I drop by to visit from time to time." He paused a moment then added, "She asks about you."

"What did you tell her?"

"She knows you've retired," Neal said. "Knows you left but doesn't know why. She wonders but hasn't asked."

"That's nice of her," he said. "But she was more your friend than mine. Same as Moz."

"You sell yourself short," Neal said. "Especially with Moz. Before you he'd never have even considered trusting anyone who worked for the government. You know how he was. He likes to think of you as his friend." He had his doubts about that but he didn't voice them. "He was just as worried about you as me and Elizabeth," Neal said. "He's the one who really pushed to get your alias. Do you really think he'd have called in his connections, used his influence to find you if he didn't care about you? Consider you a friend?"

"He found me for you and Elizabeth," he said. "He knows that when someone disappears, they usually don't want to be found."

Neal sighed in frustration. "Peter, who knows Moz better? Me or you?" he asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "I do. He's been my friend almost since I hit New York, you've only known him since the Dutchman case and most of that time you were at odds. He helped us find you because he wanted to find you too."

"You can't blame me for being a little cynical, Neal," he said. "Not after what happened with the three of us. Not after my *wife* practically ignored me, shoved me aside in favor of another man. Not to mention my best friend..."

Neal rubbed his face. "I'm still your friend, Peter and I know what we did to you," he said. "Elizabeth and I got too caught up in each other, took you for granted and now we're all paying the price for that. We drove you away and now we have to live without you. We want to try again but we can't. Not without you."

"We tried once before," he said then sighed. "I know I was partly to blame for it not working but I couldn't open myself up, not after months of being on the sidelines."

"And you can't bring yourself to try and get back in the game," Neal said.

"I can't get back in the game if I'm staying here," he said. "And I *am* staying here."

"I know you are," Neal said. "I won't ask you to give up your life here but Elizabeth might. I can't say she won't."

"You can convince her it would be a wasted effort," he said.

Neal shook his head. "She sees through me almost as well as you do," he said.

"This wouldn't be a con," he said. "Just the truth. I still love her but what she did hurt more and I think she knows that."

"So you blame her more for what happened?" Neal asked.

"I blame both of you," he said. "She was my wife for more than ten years, she understood me like no one else did. You knew how I thought. That's how you stayed ahead of me for three years but neither of you seemed to consider or care what I would think or feel about the situation. Yeah, you took me for granted but you didn't realize that until I left and you started falling apart." He paused, looking away, out over the piece of land he called his. "I told Moz that I wasn't going back, especially if the only reason you wanted me was so you two could stay together."

"I want you back for you," Neal said. "I can't speak for Elizabeth."

"Yeah, well, neither can I, not anymore," he said. "All that time. I thought I knew her. Apparently I didn't. Not really."

Neal sighed, falling back against the seat. "Before I came along, your marriage was rock solid," he said. "I'd always wanted what you two had. Thought I'd have it with Kate..."

"We invited you in, Neal," he said. "I never thought for a second you planned what happened, you and Elizabeth. If I had, I'd have left a lot sooner. It was just a shock, a blow to the ego to find you don't know someone as well as you think you do."

Neal gave a humorless laugh. "Believe me, I know exactly how that feels," he said. "I thought I knew Kate but events showed me that I really didn't."

"You weren't married to her," he said. "Half the time you were either in different countries or you were in prison. Not exactly ideal for really getting to know someone."

"I don't know," Neal said. "You got to know me pretty well when you were chasing me and you'd only laid eyes on me once."

"I got to know you as a criminal," he said. "Not as someone I love."

"You love me?"

"Can't just turn it off, remember?" he said. "If I didn't, it wouldn't have hurt so much." A silence settled between them, not quite awkward but not quite comfortable either. He broke it by saying, "It wasn't easy, leaving you but I thought I had to, to protect myself and to give you what it seemed you wanted. And despite the time that's gone by I still need to protect myself. To do that I have to stay here."

"And it doesn't hurt that you like it here," Neal said.

"Yeah, I do," he said. "Something to be said for small towns. People here are more... real than they are in New York. They're not in such a rush."

Neal got up as evening approached, holding out his hand. "Come on," he said. "I'll cook tonight." He raised a brow and Neal added, "I have a good take on what you have ... and what you're getting low on."

He nodded, grasping Neal's hand and letting him pull him to his feet. "It's about time I do a grocery run," he said as they went inside.

WCWCWCWC

"So, how is he?" Elizabeth asked.

"How's who?"

"Don't try," Elizabeth said. "I know you went to see Peter while I was gone."

"He's doing well," Neal said, leaning back into the couch. "He seems happy...settled."

"And his girlfriend?"

"She seems nice," he said. "But Peter never told Moz she was his girlfriend. Moz just assumed she was."

"But he's still not coming back," Elizabeth said.

"I couldn't talk him into it," Neal said. Technically true since he couldn't bring himself to try. "He thinks he still has to protect himself."

"Protect himself? From what?"

"From us," Neal said. "From having his heart broken again. He said it was bad enough what I'd done to him but you... the woman he loves, who he'd pledged his life to just... pushed him aside." He hated putting the anguished look on her face but there it was. "We were selfish Elizabeth," he said. "What we did tore us all apart."

"There's no fixing it, is there?" she asked.

"I don't know," Neal said. "Whether we can be *us* again is up to him."

Elizabeth shook herself. "Well, I like to think I know him better than anybody," she said. "Maybe I can get through to him."

"Do you have the time?" Neal asked.

"I'll make the time," Elizabeth said. "Yvonne can handle things while I'm gone."

"It won't be easy," Neal said. "He has a life there, one he enjoys. I mean, if *I* couldn't talk him around..."

"But I was his wife," Elizabeth said. "I know him better than you do."

"You know Peter Burke," Neal said. "Not John Lassiter."

Elizabeth looked at him, her expression hard. "He's still Peter, no matter what name he's using," she said. "Damn it Neal, we need him. Even if he doesn't need us." Her expression softened. "I just want my husband back," she said.

"I know you do," Neal said. "I want him back too. I told him we want to be us again but we can't. Not without him."

"So what do we do?"

"Keep going," Neal said.

WCWCWCWC

Later that night, Elizabeth couldn't sleep, despite the fact that Neal had tried to wear her out. She still missed the second pair of hands, the second mouth, the second man who'd once shared their bed. There, in the darkest part of the night, with a gorgeous man asleep beside her, she admitted that it was her action - or inaction - that had driven Peter away. She hadn't paid enough attention to her marriage and she'd lost it. Lost it because she'd been too caught up in the novelty of having a very skilled lover in addition to her husband, someone who shared her interests, enjoyed the same things she did. She'd lost the solidness of Peter Burke that had kept both her and Neal grounded in ways she'd ever realized until it wasn't there. Before Neal, her marriage had been solid...

She stopped the thought before it could lead to blame. She was just as responsible as Neal. She'd known of the attraction between the two men almost before they did. She'd shared it. She'd given Peter permission to pursue it and she'd benefited from it. Neal was right - her actions had caused the most damage because she'd done the one thing she'd sworn she'd never do - take her husband for granted.

She slipped out of bed, putting on a robe and went downstairs, knowing she wouldn't be getting any sleep. She gave Louis and Satchmo a quick scratch and pulled out her planner - might as well get some work done if she was going to be up. The event at the Powell wasn't going to plan itself. She paused. Neal's company would be providing security for that event - yet another thing that has come between them and Peter. Their jobs had intersected much more than they had with the white collar division. Yes, Neal still consulted with the Bureau on occasion but Neal's company had never been associated with any case. He was just that good since he looked at security from a thief's perspective, how *he'd* get through to pull off a job, finding holes where no one else would think to look for them.

She started, feeling hands on her shoulders and found Neal behind her.

"The event at the Powell?" he asked, sitting across from her.

"Couldn't sleep," she said. "Figured I might as well."

"Yeah. I still need to go over security with my team," Neal said. He studied her for a few minutes then asked quietly, "Peter?"

"Yeah, " Elizabeth sighed. "I realized that it was our jobs that came between us too. How many events have we worked together? And how many of those was White Collar involved in? You company is arguably the best because it has one thing none of the others have - the best white collar criminal anyone's seen in a long time. So, given that, the Bureau's never had to get involved. You've worked with me more often than you've worked with Peter since the anklet came off."

"I haven't worked with Peter in two years. Not since he left the last time," Neal said.

"And before the first time?" Elizabeth asked. "Every museum event I've worked, they've asked for you. Because they know your reputation. Because they know if *you* couldn't get through security then no one else could."

Neal sighed. "How did things get to be such a mess?" he asked.

"I think we both know," Elizabeth said. "We let other things get in the way of what was really important. And like you said before, Peter saw us choose each other over him. We let him think he was in the way." She was silent, drumming her pen on the table and looking a little lost. "And we can't show him any different if he won't come back." She reached out and squeezed his hand. "He's not coming back, is he?"

"He doesn't want to, no," Neal said. "I think he's really happy there."

"Happier than he was here? Before all this?"

"May be," Neal said. He gave a self deprecating laugh. "For years I lived with always having a back up plan," he said. "But I don't have one for this. We can't fix it because he won't come here and we can't go there."

"Not both of us, no," Elizabeth said. "Maybe once in a while we could both go up there but that won't solve anything."

"Would you give up the business for him?" Neal asked.

"Would you?" Elizabeth asked in return.

"That's not an answer."

"It's also not fair," Elizabeth said. "The company is part of who I am. I built it from the ground up. Peter knows that and I think I still know him well enough to know he wouldn't ask me to give it up. Any more than he would ask you to give up yours."

"Then we're at an impasse," Neal said. "None of us are going to give up what we have. Since that's the case we're stuck with the way things are."

"And the way things are isn't satisfactory," Elizabeth said. "We want him back but he won't come back because of what we did."

"Do you blame him?"

"No," Elizabeth sighed. "I lost him and my marriage because I didn't take care of it. Let other things get in the way, something I swore I'd never do. Nothing and no one should have been more important than that." She looked at him and saw, for the first time in a long time, the shuttered look he got when he didn't want his feelings known. Closing himself off. "Neal, sweety," she said. "I don't regret having you here and I'm sure Peter didn't either. We all share the blame for this - we got too caught up and Peter didn't say anything. If just one of us had said or done something, we wouldn't be in this situation."

"I just hate having done this to him," Neal said. "He was there for me when Kate was killed then when Ellen died, he tried to warn me about my father - and ended up in jail for it. He was there when Moz was shot. He was the one person in my life I knew I could count on. All I ever wanted was his trust - even when it seemed all I could do was sabotage it - and he gave me so much more."

"But I promised to love, honor and cherish til death do us part," Elizabeth said. "And one out of three isn't nearly good enough. For better or worse? I was part of the worse. I love him as much as you do Neal and I helped shove him away. I shut him out to such an extent that he thought leaving, changing his name was the better option." She blinked back tears and her voice was thick when she added, "And I hate that I can't do anything to fix what I helped break."

Neal stood and went around the table, pulling her to her feet and held her as she broke down. He hated seeing her this way. She'd always seemed so strong, so indomitable that seeing her so lost and afraid made him hate Peter a little even though he understood why things were as they were. "When do you want to go?" he asked when she quieted.

She pulled back and wiped her eyes, composing herself. "I *want* to go right now," she said. "But I can't until this thing at the Powell is over." She moved to sit back down but Neal stopped her.

"Leave it for now," he said. "You need your sleep."

"So do you," she said.

"I'll be up after I let Satch and Louis out," he said. "Now go."

Both dogs whined, hearing their names and went to stand by the back door. As Elizabeth went upstairs, Neal let the dogs out and waited until they finished their business and came inside before licking up and joining Elizabeth upstairs.

WCWCWCWC

 

He looked up from his end of shift paperwork, hearing the door open and sighed, seeing who'd come in. "What do you want, Moz?" he asked.

"Can't I just be here for a visit?" Moz asked, sitting down.

He fixed the other man with a look. "I told you, don't try to con me," he said. "You wouldn't drive six hours just to visit."

"Not *just*," Moz said. "I'm actually here to look at some property for a friend."

"And your friend couldn't come himself?"

"Too busy," Moz said. "And since I have plenty of free time on my hands, I volunteered."

"Uh-huh. And what exactly is your friend looking for?" he asked.

Moz shrugged. "Nothing too big," he said.

"Kinda vague isn't it?" he asked. "Nothing around here is all that big. Most houses are two or three bedroom. And why are you asking me and not a realtor?"

"You know the area."

"So do they," he said. "So cut the crap. Why are you really here?"

Moz sighed, removed his glasses and cleaned them before answering. "To add my pleas for you to return to those of Elizabeth's and Neal's."

"I already told Neal I wasn't going back," he said. "He accepted that. Didn't even try to change my mind."

"And Elizabeth?"

"I've spoken to her a few times," he said. "She said she wanted to make the trip but her schedule is full up through the Fourth. I pointed out that Yvonne is more than capable of handling some of those events but she disagreed. Not that Yvonne isn't capable but that since the events are more high profile than most and they insist she be there."

"Your wife..." He held up a hand, halting the protest. "Your ex wife has become quite successful since you left," Moz said. "Probably because she has little else to occupy her time."

"She has Neal," he said.

"All right, little enough outside her business."

"Neal made time," he said.

"Neal doesn't have the client base she has," Moz said. "Not to mention he's not required to be there during though most of the time he is." He sighed. "Look, they both know they made mistakes," he said. "All they really want to know is if you can forgive them."

"Fair enough," he said. "And the answer is I don't know if I can." He leaned forward. "You don't know what it's like when people close to you turn on you like that. And I don't think you'll ever know. You've prided yourself on never depending an on anyone, never letting yourself get that close. Maybe that's a good thing - I don't know - but what does it say that Elizabeth would do that to me after more than a decade of marriage and Neal after I put my job and my freedom on the line for him, doing everything I could to keep him out of prison until the anklet came off? Yes, part of this whole mess is my fault. I couldn't let myself open up to them after I went back but they didn't seem all that willing to make it safe for me to do so." He sat back. "I told Neal I was staying here and I am," he said. "I have a life here, a good one, one I'm not willing to give up on the off chance that things with them will change."

"Do you still love them?"

"I do," he said. "But loving someone doesn't mean you're safe with them. And right now, I don't think I am."

Moz nodded as he stood. "I understand," he said. "They do want you back. So so I. So do a lot of people, but obviously it's your choice." He let out a breath. "Well, I've said my piece," he said. "And I really am here to look at properties and I'd rather talk to someone I know than a fake-friendly, impersonal realtor."

"I can give you a few addresses and names," he said, grabbing a piece of paper and writing for a few minutes. "Might not be what your friend is looking for but you could check. If they ask, just tell them I told you."

"I'll tell them that Deputy Lassiter was kind enough to point me in their direction," Moz said, folding the paper and tucking it in his shirt pocket. He regarded him a moment. "It's good to see you, Peter. Really."

He smiled. "You too," he said. Moz gave him a nod and turned to go. As he reached the door, he asked, "Who's your friend?"

Moz looked back, smirking a little. "Who do you think?" he asked and pushed through the door.

WCWCWCWC

Neal reached almost absently for his phone - his work phone, not his personal one. "Caffrey Security."

"That's original," came a somewhat sardonic voice.

"Peter! This is a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Had an interesting visit from Moz a few days ago," he said.

"Really?"

"Care to tell me why you're looking to buy property around here?"

"How do you know it's me?"

"Who else could get him to leave Manhattan for a personal favor?" he asked. "And you didn't answer my question."

Neal sat back, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why do you think?" he asked.

"You tell me."

"An investment," Neal said. "Someplace to get out of the city... someplace closer to you."

There was silence on the other end, then, "Does Elizabeth know?"

"I may have expressed an interest," Neal said. "Nothing definite."

"Will you bring her with you?"

"If she wants and she's not too busy," Neal said. "Won't be until summer though. She's booked through the Fourth."

"So she said. I'm glad she's doing so well."

"She is... professionally," Neal said. "Not so much personally. Me either." He looked up as his assistant rapped softly on the open door and signaled for her to wait. "Listen, I'd love to talk more but duty calls. Call me this evening, would you? I should be out of here by six."

"I'll do that."

He sat looking at his phone until his assistant cleared her throat, reminding him he had work to do. "Sorry," he said.

"New client?"

"No, old friend," he said, setting the phone aside. "I take it Mr. Blankenship is here about the security at his house."

"He's not here," his assistant, Carla said. "He called and asked if you'd meet him there so he can see exactly how to fix the problems he's having."

"He shouldn't have bought wholesale for starters," Neal said, getting up and gathering his things. "Half the cost of that Degas he has would cover the cost of a top of the line system."

"So you're saying the system he has has more holes than a block of Swiss cheese?" Carla asked, amused.

Neal laughed. "Something like that," he said. "I saw six blindspots just in the main hall."

"Just curious," Carla said. "And feel free to tell me to mind my own business..." She noted the raised brow and said "Of course, you would."

"What's the question?" Neal asked.

"How'd you learn all this stuff?"

Neal considered his answer as they walked to the entrance. "Practical experience," he said.

"So you've beaten these systems...?"

"Not specifically," Neal said. "At least not all of them. I know what a thief would look for to get through or around any kind of security so I know how to plug the holes." He smiled a little. "I was considered the best at it at one time. After all, I did manage to avoid getting caught by the FBI for three years."

"And here I thought I knew almost everything about you," Carla said, putting his briefcase in the car.

"There's only one person who does, really," Neal said, slipping behind the wheel.

"And who's that?"

"The agent who caught me," Neal said. "Mind the store while I'm gone."

WCWCWCWC

He leaned in through the window of the car he'd pulled over and sighed. "How many times do I have to remind you of the speed limit through town, Rodney?" he asked. "You were fifteen over this time. What's your excuse?"

"Lead foot?" Rodney offered hopefully.

"Lead foot? That's the best you can do?" he asked. "C'mon Rodney, you're a smart kid. You can figure out how to ease up on the gas."

Rodney's head fell against the steering wheel as he groaned. "My mom's gonna kill me if I get another ticket... or worse, she'll take the car."

"Losing the car is worse than getting killed?' he asked, brows raised.

"If she takes the car, I'll lose my job," Rodney said. "If I lose my job, I can't pay the ticket." He looked at him hopefully. "Give me a pass this time?"

He sighed, remembering when he'd been eighteen, having the freedom a car allowed. He'd also known that if he'd done what Rodney had, his dad would have taken a two by four to his ass, grounded him for a month and suspended driving privileges for a month. He put his ticket pad away and fixed Rodney with a look. "All right," he said. "This time I will. Next time, I'll take the keys and you'll walk home. Got it?"

"Got it," Rodney said, relieved. "Thank you."

"Were you ever like that as a kid?"

He turned to see Elizabeth leaning against her car, parked in front of the drug store.

"You've met my dad," he said. "Do you think I'd have been allowed to be?"

"It's good to see you," Elizabeth said, straightening as he came over.

"I thought you were booked through the Fourth," he said.

"Yvonne can handle this one," Elizabeth said. She paused a moment then asked somewhat hesitantly, "How've you been Peter?"

"I've been good. You?"

"As well as can be expected, considering," she said. "Missing my husband something fierce."

"We're divorced, El," he said gently, leaning against the car.

"But I don't want to be," Elizabeth said. "I only agreed because it was what you wanted."

"I thought it was for the best," he said. "You had your life - and Neal - and you didn't seem to want me anymore."

"I know what it seemed like," Elizabeth said. "But you have to know I never meant what happened."

"I know you didn't. I know Neal didn't," he said. "And I admit I was angry at both of you for what you did." He looked down the street, seeing Rodney take a corner just a little too fast. "I gave you what I thought you wanted - what I still think you want - and that's each other without me in the way." He was silent for a long while and though he didn't look at her, he could feel her start to fidget. "It hurt, El. You hurt me. After all those years together, it hurt more than you could ever understand, that you could do could do that to me. And honestly, I'm not sure I can forgive you for that."

"You think I'm not angry at myself?" Elizabeth asked. "Do you think I'm not angry that I can't fix what I broke? Knowing this whole situation is my fault?"

"Not entirely," he said.

"I was your wife Peter," Elizabeth said. "You should have come first. I lost you, lost my marriage because I put other things ahead of that." She sighed, sounding defeated. "We never meant for this to happen. We never meant to drive you away."

"I know that," he said. "Like I told Neal, if I thought you'd planned this, I'd have left sooner. Yes, I should have said something but I didn't because you and Neal know me better than anyone. I thought you knew what you were doing to me." He straightened. "Let me buy you lunch," he said. "You're here this time of day, I know you haven't eaten."

"I'd like that," Elizabeth said. "And I'm starved."

"Did Neal tell you he's looking at property up here?" he asked after they'd placed their orders.

"He mentioned it," Elizabeth said. "But I didn't know he was serious."

"Serious enough to ask Moz to come look for him," he said.

"Any prospects?"

"I gave him a few," he said. "I also asked Neal if he'd bring you with him."

"And what did he say?"

"He would if you wanted and if you weren't too busy." He regarded her as the waitress brought their orders. "You don't talk?" he asked.

"We're both too busy," Elizabeth said. "Mostly so we don't have to remember you're not there. Too busy to think about it."

"For what it's worth, I still love you, both of you but I'm not safe with you," he said.

"Could you be?"

"I don't know," he said. "And I'm not sure I'm willing to take the chance." He sighed. "I know this is a messed up situation all the way around," he said. "And we're at an impasse. You and Neal have your businesses in the city and I have my life here and none of us are willing to give that up, even though we all want to be together."

"You still want to be with us?"

"Yes, I do," he said. "But I can't trust that the same thing won't happen again. A big part of why I left the last time is finding out how you really felt about me being back. And the thing is, you didn't realize what you were saying."

"What do you mean?"

"All those nights one of you crawling over me," he said. "I can't tell you how many times I woke up to you or Neal climbing over me so the two of you could be together. That told me you really didn't care if I was back."

"We were just used to sleeping like that," Elizabeth said.

"It started long before that," he said. "Probably about six months into this thing. Looking surprised when I got home, not wondering when I *would* be home, getting so caught up with whatever you were doing with each other that you barely noticed I was there. It was only after I left that you realized you needed me to stay together."

"We do need you," Elizabeth said.

"But why?" he asked. "Is it only because you need someone on the outside? Because you two fit together better than you do with me and you need me there to remind you of that?"

"That's not it at all," Elizabeth said. "We just... need you. Nothing's been the same since you left and it's killing us, knowing we did this to you. Knowing we can't fix this if you won't let us."

He busied himself with eating for a few minutes then asked, "Would you be willing to give up your business?"

Elizabeth fiddled with her coffee cup. "That's not fair," she said quietly. "You know what it means to me, how hard I worked for it."

"But you want me to give up the life I have here," he aid. "A life I worked just as hard for, cut myself off from everyone I love to get."

"You chose to do that."

"Yes, I did," he said. "I chose not to stay on the outside, chose to protect myself from the two people I should never have had to, chose to give them what they seemed to want, even though it didn't include me. That's the price I paid for this life. And it hurt more than you'll ever know to make that choice."

"So you're saying you sacrificed more than we did."

"I'm not keeping score here," he said. "I just want you to hear my side. I'm not asking you to give up your business. I'd never expect you to since I know what it means to you, how hard you worked to get it to where it is. But I can't help but wish you worked just as hard to keep what we had."

"So do I," Elizabeth said.

"I can understand how it happened," he said. "Neal was new, exciting, different and you both got caught up in that. So did I. I loved seeing the two of you together and I admit I learned a few things about you, what you enjoyed but when you began preferring each other, both in bed and out of it, it was too much. I had to do something and staying didn't seem to be an option."

"And being together isn't an option either, is it?"

"Doesn't appear to be," he said.

"So, this is a wasted trip?" Elizabeth asked.

"You tell me."

She let out a breath and smiled a little. "No, not completely wasted," she said. "I was hoping I could convince you to come back, as I'm sure you know but it is nice seeing you again. I just wish you weren't so far away."

"I think it's for the best," he said.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry for all this, for my part in it," she said. "I still love you, you know. I never stopped."

"I know," he said. "Just give me time." He glanced up as the waitress gave him the check. "So, how long can you stay?" he asked as he left a tip and went up to pay the bill.

"I have an early client meeting tomorrow," Elizabeth said. "So I have to get back tonight."

"You'll be okay to drive?"

"I'll be fine," she said. "It's still early enough that I should be back by dinnertime."

"You know I won't mind seeing you again," he said as they walked to her car. "Either of you."

"We'll take you up on that offer," Elizabeth said with a smile. "Don't know when though."

"I'm not going anywhere," he said.

"Yeah... that's kinda the problem," she said ruefully as she got behind the wheel.

"Take care."

WCWCWCWC

As was his habit in warm weather, he sat out back with a beer, watching the sun set, thinking of Elizabeth's visit. Again he was faced with a choice between his heart and his head, pulling him in opposite directions. This time however, he was more inclined to listen to his head. He'd listened to his heart before and it had left him even more hurt. He couldn't deny that he loved them both but he also couldn't deny that they'd hurt him, almost past forgiveness. He hadn't wanted to admit it to Elizabeth but he did feel he'd sacrificed more than they had. After all, they still had their businesses, still had each other while he had none of that. Yes, the sacrifice had been willingly made but that didn't make it less of one. He was the one who'd started over, without even his name while they'd just had to adjust. It was still a matter of each of them having their own lives and none were willing to give them up. Although Neal...

"Neal seems willing to compromise," he said to himself.

Neal, who'd always been willing to go after what he wanted, no holds barred, doing whatever it took - outside using violence - to get what he wanted, from risking a life on the run to be with a woman he'd thought he loved to agreeing to being shackled to the Bureau - to him - so he could look for her. Did that mean Neal loved him more than Elizabeth or was he just reading into it? Of course it *had* been Neal who'd blown off a client meeting just to come see him, to spend a week with him in a place he couldn't have felt comfortable. Neal didn't like small towns as a rule. He liked to blend in unless he didn't want to. Elizabeth, on the other hand, seemed to prefer handling client meetings herself along with managing the events despite having an assistant just as capable as herself. Yvonne knew the business inside and out, as well as Elizabeth did. There was really no reason she couldn't hand it off for a few days except that she didn't want to. Her business seemed to be more important to her than trying to win him back. Did he really *not* know Elizabeth?

He put the question out of his mind, determined to enjoy the evening. In his mind, it was on them to win him back - he wasn't about to go crawling back to them. He'd done that once and it had backfired, leaving him even more hurt and confused. He didn't see how the situation could be resolved to everyone's satisfaction, not with three strong, independent - and stubborn - people involved. None of them wanted this but none would budge either, so they were left with the status quo.

WCWCWCWC

He went into work expecting it to be a normal day but knew it wouldn't be as soon as he walked in. There, talking to Veronica, the sheriff's secretary, was Neal.

"Oh, Officer Lassiter," she said. "This is Neal Caffrey."

"Mr. Caffrey," he said politely. "What brings you to Greenhill?"

"A very good friend of mine lives here. Couldn't stop singing its praises so I thought I'd look around and see if it lived up to his description."

"So what's the verdict?" he asked, leaning against his desk.

"I like what I see," Neal said, giving him a look that, fortunately, Veronica didn't see. "Very much. So much that I've put an offer in on a property east of town."

"The Grumman place," Veronica said. "They said that since the kids are grown and gone, it's really more than they need."

"I'm familiar with it Ronnie," he said. "Since it's only a few miles from my place."

"Nice to know an officer of the law is so close," Neal said.

"Anything on deck, Ronnie?" he asked, gathering his gear. "I'm sure Mr. Caffrey wouldn't mind a look around town."

"Nothing so far," Veronica said. "Carl called and said he'd be a little late but I'll let him know where you are, just in case."

He nodded to her. "Mr. Caffrey..." he said, indicating the door.

Once they were out of earshot, Neal teasingly said, "I'm trying to decided if I have a uniform kink."

"Neal..." He sighed. "You've already bought the Grumman place, didn't you?

"Yes, and I had no idea we'd practically be neighbors," Neal said.

"So you're really moving here?"

"Not permanently," Neal said. "Like I told you, it's an investment, a place to get out of the city... to be closer to you. I'll use it for weekends when I haven't got prior commitments and for vacations."

"I figured you more for the south of France for vacations," he said "Or Venice."

"This is closer and I don't have to deal with airport security."

His radio squealed. "Three One Four, what's your twenty?"

"Main and Wilcox. What's the problem?"

"Reports of an argument and possible shots fired at thirteen oh four Bryant."

"I'm on it." He turned to Neal. "You'll have to take the tour yourself."

"Go. I'll manage."

WCWCWCWC

He found Neal window shopping at the bookstore when he finished. "Everything okay?" Neal asked.

"Yeah, everything's fine," he said. "There was an argument but what the neighbor thought was gunfire was actually the guy kicking in an interior door."

"So, his girlfriend... his wife? locked herself in their room?" Neal asked.

"No, it was the guy's boyfriend who locked himself in their room," he said.

"Ah," Neal said. "I guess I wasn't expecting Greenhill to be so... progressive."

"For a New Yorker there are a lot of things that are unexpected in Greenhill," he said. "We're not that isolated, you know."

"So they wouldn't think anything if I kissed you in full view of anyone on the street?"

"Probably not," he said. "They'd wonder why probably since as far as anyone knows, we just met."

"What about the fact that you're very good looking and, I must say, very sexy in that uniform?" Neal asked with an appreciative look. "I can't decide if you look better with it on or with it off."

"Down boy" he said wryly. "Even New York has laws against public indecency."

"So how 'bout we get indecent at your place?"

He couldn't help shaking his head even as he smiled. It had been a long time since he'd seen that side of Neal - playful and outrageous, like he'd been at the start. "Can't," he said. "I'm on duty."

"Pity," Neal said. "What time do you get off?"

"Two thirty," he said.

"Wanna get off again at three?"

"Jesus Neal," he said. "Someone turn your libido up to eleven or something?"

"I've realized that I've been deprived of your company for entirely too long," Neal said. "I have a lot of time to make up for."

To change the subject, he asked, "So when are you semi-offically moving up here?"

"I was told the sale would be final within a month," Neal said. "I'll start moving in the first free weekend I have."

"You could ask Moz," he said.

"I may do that," Neal said. "And for the time I'm not here, I could probably use a housesitter. Any suggestions?"

"Christie but her dad will probably want to vet you," he said after thinking a few minutes.

"Will that be a problem for you?" Neal asked.

"It could lead to him finding out who I really am... was." He sighed. "Look I'll ask Christie, see if she'd be interested. If so, I'll talk to Carl. He knows I was with the Bureau and I can say I used my contacts to vet you." He fixed him with a look that was part glare. "If everyone's in agreement and if you do anything to her, Carl isn't the only one you'll answer to. Understand?"

"I promise I won't take advantage of her, no cons, no nothing," Neal said. "I don't do that anymore Peter." He regarded the older man for a moment. "Who is she to you?"

"If you're asking if we're involved, if we were ever involved, the answer is no," he said. "Christie's a sweet kid and I don't want to see her get hurt... or you for that matter. Carl's very protective of her. Just so you know." He let out a breath. "Where are you staying? The inn?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Carl and I trade dinner invites every weekend," he said. "Tonight's my turn and I'm inviting you to join us. He knows I was with the Bureau and he knows you were my CI." He saw the question and answered, "Vera's his cousin and she told him you were here the last time you were."

"The day you were called in because of those kids and the abandoned house."

"He asked how I knew you and I told him," he said. "I asked him not to look up anything I told him since it would mean digging up tales of your former exploits and you'd rather that didn't happen now that you've gone straight."

"Well, I have to admit I do like to brag a little," Neal said.

"You don't say?" he said wryly. "I had no idea."

"All right, no bragging about what I may have allegedly done in the past," Neal said. "Can I brag about the cases we closed? Like the robbery at Le Joyau Precieux? Or the theft of the Haustenberg?"

"The one you forged?"

"It wasn't a forgery. I signed it"

"It was authenticated."

"Because the curator would have had to admit he ignored Haustenberg's wishes that it go to Julianna's grandmother if he didn't." Neal said. "If you were still Special Agent Peter Burke, you could probably get a look at it."

He regarded the younger man for a long moment then asked, "You signed it?"

"On the back," Neal said. "I put 'Dear Walter, I know what you saw here last time N.C.'. You were there when he examined it. Did you notice anything...off?"

"He did seem to hesitate when he looked at the back," he said. "And yes, I'd wondered what you'd done. So where's the original?"

"Back where it belongs," Neal said. "With Julianna. It's rightfully hers."

"You know I thought you stole it," he said.

"Technically I did," Neal said. "I stole it from the person who had it stolen. But I never intended to keep it."

He sighed. "Maybe a little bragging but only because I know you probably will anyway," he said. "Just don't mention the music box. Or the U-boat, all right?"

"Honestly, there are times I wish I'd never heard of it," Neal said. "It was the reason your phones were bugged, Kate was killed, Moz was shot and me almost getting shot after I was almost killed.. But you know what was the worst thing about that whole mess?"

"What?"

"The fact that you completely lost trust in me," Neal said.

"But you *did* take the treasure," he said.

"No, Moz took it," Neal said. "He substituted my art for what was on the U-boat and blew the warehouse so everyone, especially Adler, would think it was destroyed."

"Which was when Adler tried to kill you." They walked along in silence for a while then he asked, "Why didn't you turn it over? Let us repatriate it?"

Neal sighed. "It was the score of a life time," he said. "And I didn't want to think of where it came from. I'm glad everything was returned, even if Keller got all the credit."

"If you don't mind, I'd rather not think about Keller," he said. He checked his watch. "Come on, I'll buy you lunch," he said. He checked in to let the office know and led the way to the diner.

"I thought Veronica was the secretary," Neal said.

"She is but doubles as dispatcher."

Lunch was spent reminiscing about old cases and catching up but with Neal Caffrey involved it was almost inevitable that things got interesting. The diner was a little crowded and both men noticed the minor disturbance near one of the tables as one man stumbled into the couple sitting there.

"Sloppy," Neal murmured, seeing the man's hand slip into the woman's purse. "Can I?" he asked, looking at the older man.

"As long as she gets everything back," he said.

"I'm wounded," Neal pouted. "Of course she will."

As the pickpocket passed their table, Neal stood up, bumping into him. It was only because he knew what was coming and what to look for that he saw Neal's hand slide into the thief's pocket, deftly relieving him of the stolen wallet. "Oh, I am so sorry," Neal said, straightening out the other man's jacket. "I'm so clumsy sometimes." He waited until the man left before returning the woman's property, pausing long enough to say something to her.

"Well?" he asked when Neal rejoined him.

"Just gave her a little advice to avoid a repeat," Neal said. "You'll notice she closed her purse."

"Keeping in practice?" he asked. "That was as smooth as ever."

"Thank you and yes," Neal said. "I give the occasional talk on personal security so it helps to keep my skills up."

He resisted the urge to check for his own wallet but, judging from Neal's faint smirk, he knew what he was thinking.

"You stopped being a mark a long time ago," Neal said.

"You can't blame me," he said. "How many times did you lift my wallet? Or my badge?"

"I was just keeping in practice," Neal said.

"Not to mention you knew how much it irritated me when you did."

"I gave it back every time," Neal said. "Contents intact."

They were pleasantly surprised when they went to pay their bill. The cashier informed them that the couple who'd been robbed - the woman whose wallet Neal had returned - had covered the cost of their meals. Neal seemed to look around with new eyes as they walked back to the office. "I think I'm going to like living here," he said. "Even if it is part time."

WCWCWCWC

"You actually jumped out of a fourth floor window?" Christie asked skeptically when Neal recounted the story after dinner.

"Technically I only fell three stories," Neal said. "I landed on the awning of the bakery then swung down to the sidewalk."

So why'd you let him get away?" Carl asked.

"I had my doubts about his involvement in the robbery," he said. "And I knew the Bureau could use his expertise if we were going to find out who was really responsible. He couldn't do that if he was in prison." He regarded Neal for a few moments then said, "I'd almost forgotten you'd bought that bakery. Still have it?"

"I decided to hang on to it," Neal said. "It helped supplement the stipend I got from the Bureau. Now it's one of Elizabeth's go-to bakeries when she plans an event." He gave a somewhat sly smile. "After all, it does have the greatest cake."

"That got old the first time you used it," he said. Seeing Carl and Christie's puzzled looks, he explained, "It's the name of the bakery - The Greatest Cake. So, how's business and who's managing it?"

"Business is good, actually," Neal said. "Bringing in more that I thought it would, even without Elizabeth's patronage. And believe it or not, Moz is manager."

He started to comment but thought better of it. "Well, knowing Moz, he probably thoroughly vetted everyone working there, not to mention any suppliers."

"Tell you what, I'll bring something the next time I visit," Neal said to Carl and Christie. "So, what will it be? Cake? Cupcakes? Fudge?"

Carl and Christie exchanged a glance and a shrug before Christie asked, "You have red velvet?"

"Of course," Neal said. "Cake or cupcakes?"

"I think cupcakes," Carl said. "Otherwise it would be gone the first day. With cupcakes, I can at least hide some."

"It'd be gone the first day because you'd eat it all," Christie said, amused. "With cupcakes I can hide some."

Neal regarded them a moment then seemed to come to a decision. "Did John tell you I bought the property a few miles from here?"

"I'd heard the sale was pending," Carl said. "Not that you bought it. Why?"

"I'll be in need of a housesitter since I'll only be here on weekends mostly, a few weeks in summer," Neal said. "John suggested you might be interested, Christie. With your permission of course, Carl."

"Christie's grown," Carl said. "If she's interested, no permission needed."

"Are you?"

“You sure? I mean you really don't know me,” Christie said.

“No, but John does and I trust his judgment,” Neal said. “He's never steered me wrong. I'll provide enough to pay the bills, stock the kitchen and, of course compensate you for your time.”

“What do you think, Dad?”

Carl shrugged. “Up to you,” he said. “Besides it's about time you got out on your own.”

“But...”

“I can take care of myself,” Carl said.

“No need to decide now, “ Neal said. “When you do, either way, let John know. He knows how to get hold of me.”

“I'll think about it,” Christie said.

WCWCWCWC

“So what will her compensation be if she agrees?” he asked as they sat out back after Carl and Christie left.

“What does and apartment go for here?” Neal asked.

“About four hundred a month,” he said.

“Then at least that much,” Neal said with a shrug. “I assume the cost is why she's still at home.”

“Partly,” he said. “Also, she helps Carl out since his wife died.” He took a sip of his beer. “Have you even looked at the house?”

“Moz did and drew the layout for me,” Neal said.

“Ah yes, the photographic memory.”

Neal nodded. “One thing I noticed was what looked to be former servants' quarters in the back,” he said. I had the idea that Christie could live there even when I'm there.” He saw the protest and headed it off. “I have no plans to try anything with her. I'm not interested. I have you and Elizabeth... I do have you, don't I?” He relaxed when he received a nod. “Besides, she's a bit young for me. Not to mention I'd rather not risk getting shot by her father... or you.” He relaxed into the lounger. “She seems like a nice girl.”

“She is,” he said. “Level-headed, smart, responsible. She's been working at the store since she was old enough to get a job.”

“So I'll help supplement her income,” Neal said.

“You can afford that?” he asked. “You never really talk about the business.”

“I can afford it,' Neal said. “My clients want the best and are willing to pay for it. As Elizabeth pointed out, I have one thing the others don't – my reputation. I've made it no secret that I've worked with the Bureau's white collar crime unit and that I still consult on occasion. And my reputation as a conman and thief is still out there. Forty eight hundred a year isn't that much for a live-in housesitter. And Christie gets a place to live rent free. You're right down the road so there's that too. You can keep an eye on her when her father can't.”

He shook his head, a little amused. “Neal Caffrey, taking someone under his wing,” he said.

“I didn't because you already have,” Neal said. “It's obvious you care about her – in a paternal way – and I respect that.” He contemplated his beer a moment then said, “I wish my father had been more like you instead of a dirty cop who'd murdered his commanding officer.”

“Then you wouldn't be who you are,” he said. “You wouldn't be where you are now. The head of a successful security company. Successful because if the best out there can't get through then no one can.” He reached over and took Neal's hand. “I'm proud of you, you know,” he said. “You've gone from a young, cocky conman who enjoyed taunting the Bureau to the head of a successful company.”

“That means a lot to me,” Neal said. “Coming from you. And for the record, you were the one I enjoyed taunting, not the Bureau.”

“Same thing back then, really,” he said. “And to this day I can't even look at a lime sucker without thinking of that day in front of the bank.”

Neal groaned softly. “That was a stupid move on my part,” he said but he smiled. “Because of that you could put me at the bank when that bond was cashed.”

“Well, you don't forget getting handed a sucker by a good looking young man while on a case,” he said.

Neal tugged on his hand and he leaned toward him. “In retrospect, I can't say it was a bad move on my part,” he said then gave him a soft kiss.

Almost of its own accord, his other hand slid into Neal's hair, cupping his head as he deepened the kiss.

“I've been wanting to do that all day,” Neal said when they separated.”That and then some.”

“Are you ready for the 'and then some'?” he asked, caressing Neal's face.

“I've been ready since I got here,” Neal said. “So why aren't you naked yet?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, fairly growling as he practically shoved Neal into the house.

It wasn't nearly as rushed as the last time they were together, taking their time exploring each other as they undressed. He captured Neal's mouth in a languorous kiss as he laid him on the bed, his hands skimming down his sides. His mouth soon followed and he heard Neal's breath hitch as his lips dipped below his waist. He blew a stream of cool air along the length of Neal's cock then took the head in his mouth, relishing the weight of it on his tongue.

“Peter...” Neal breathed, trying to thrust up but he was prevented by the firm grip on his hips.

He said nothing as he took more and more of Neal's length, sucking gently as he withdrew. Neal gave a sound of protest when he released him to kiss his way up to his mouth. “We have time and I don't want to rush this,” he whispered. He felt Neal relax as he continued reacquainting himself with his lover's body. He heard Neal's breath catch when he wrapped his hand around his left ankle – right where the anklet had been. He looked up, a question in his eyes.

“Sometimes I still miss it,” Neal whispered.

He pulled himself up over him. “You do? Why?”

“I liked knowing you knew where I was,” Neal said softly. “I felt safe.”

“You hated that thing.”

“At first,” Neal admitted. “But after a while... it made me feel safe. It was like you were there even when you weren't.”

He said nothing, just took Neal's mouth in a deep kiss then let Neal roll them over and begin his own re-acquaintance. 

It was late when he prepared Neal to take him and his sigh of pleasure echoed Neal's when he sheathed himself inside the younger man's body. He stayed still, letting them both adjust, until Neal hooked his legs around his hips, then began thrusting slowly, prolonging their pleasure. All the while, their mouths and hands roamed where they would. He propped himself up and reached between them, grasping Neal's length and stroked him, off-beat to his thrusts. He listened as Neal's breathing became ragged then stopped and warmth bathed his hand as Neal climaxed, which set of his own.

WCWCWCWC

The first thing he noticed when he woke up was that he was alone but propped on the nightstand was an origami crane. He smiled faintly as he unfolded it, finding a note from Neal, explaining that he'd gone back to the inn to change.

“I loved waking up next to you, something I've missed more than I realized. I'll be back later – after stopping by the house – to cook you dinner. No arguments. XOXO Neal.”

He lay back and stretched, smiling a little, recalling the night before, exploring Neal's body the way he had the first time they'd been together. He couldn't help remembering his fear when he saw the bullet scar on Neal's chest, entirely too close to his heart. That had led to the memory of putting a bullet between Keller's eyes and the satisfaction he'd felt when Keller had crumpled to the ground, staring at him with sightless eyes.

He shook himself. He didn't want to think about Keller and everything that psychopath had put him through – Neal's shooting, Elizabeth's kidnapping and his own. Instead he focused on the sated feeling he'd had the night before, feeling Neal next to him as he slept. It wasn't until he went to shower that he saw his kissed-bruised skin, the marks standing out against his skin. How many times had they decorated each other that way – him, Neal and Elizabeth?

He showered quickly, dressed and made breakfast, glad he had the day off. He didn't think he could concentrate after the night before.

He'd settled down with the crossword and was busily filling it in when his phone rang.

“Lassiter.”

“John? It's me, Christie.”

“Hey Christie. What do you need?”

 

“Do you know where Mr. Caffrey is?”

“At the inn, I think. Why?”

“Could you tell him I'd like to take him up on his offer? About housesitting for him?”

“I can do that. How about you join us for dinner tonight and you two can hash out details?”

“Sounds good. I'll see you then.”

Once Christie hung up he dialed Neal.

“This is Caffrey.”

“Neal, it's me.”

“Peter!”

“Just called to tell you that you have a housesitter,” he said. “Christie's going to take you up on your offer. She'll be joining us for dinner so you two can hash out details. That won't be a problem will it?”

“Not at all,” Neal said. His voice lowered as he added, “Although I was hoping for a repeat of last night.”

“When are you going back to New York?” he asked.

“I can stay a couple more days,” Neal said. “Why?”

“Something to look forward to.”

“Oh, that is so not fair,” Neal said with a soft groan. “I'm going to be thinking about that all day now. Which could prove both embarrassing and awkward.”

“Just think about all those mortgage fraud and embezzlement cases we had to wade through,” he said, laughing softly.

“Now that's one thing I don't miss,” Neal said.

“Honestly, neither do I,” he said.

“You loved mortgage fraud,” Neal said.

“No, I loved making you deal with them,” he said. “About the only interesting one was the Sullivan case. Remember that one?”

“Of course I do,” Neal said. “We got to take down a dirty federal judge. Who'd tried to blackmail you.”

“Actually it was bribe,” he said. “I'm surprised she video'd it really. She implicated herself with that. She'd have had to explain why she tried to bribe me.”

“Well, I've got to go,” Neal said. “I have one more meeting with the realtor about the house then I'm going out to get a better look at it. I'll see you and Christie about six. Sound good?”

“I'll be here.”

There was a pause on the other end then Neal said, “I love you.”

“Love you too. See you tonight.”

“All night?”

“All night and all of you.”

“Not fair, Peter...”

“I know,” he said cheerfully. “Bye.”

WCWCWCWC

“That was delicious Mr. Caffrey,” Christie said, pushing her plate aside.

“Please, call me Neal,” he said. “And thank you. It's nice to be appreciated. So, now that dinner's out of the way, how about we discuss our business?”

“I've already agreed to take your offer,” Christie said.

“Yes you have but we need to discuss details,” Neal said. “As I told John, I'd like to you live there full time, not just when I'm away. There's part of the house I can convert to an attached apartment if you prefer or you could go with full use of the house.”

“That's... very generous, Mr. Caffrey... Neal,” Christie said, surprised. “But no need to go to that much trouble.”

“You could still go with the apartment,” he said. “You know, for Moz.”

“You think Moz would move out of New York” Neal asked, brow raised.

“You're right,” he said. “I don't know what I was thinking.”

“All right, full use of the house then,” Neal said, turning back to Christie. “All I ask is that you keep and eye on the place, let me know of any problems; plumbing, wiring, heating, things of that nature. Although the house is in excellent condition, it is rather old. I'd like to keep ahead of any problems before they get out of hand.”

“So I'll be more caretaker than housesitter,” Christie said.

“You'll be both,” Neal said. “Which brings me to your compensation. John tells me that average rent for this area is four hundred a month...”

“Will I be paying you rent?”

“Not a penny,” Neal said. “You're doing me a service. You'll be an employee and I like to think I'm generous with my employees so how does five hundred a month sound?”

“Five hundred? A month?” Christie asked. “You're serious?”

“Absolutely,” Neal said.

“I... wow. I don't know what to say.”

“Yes would be an acceptable answer,” Neal said, smiling a little.

“Then yes. Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” Neal said. “And now for the last detail. I'll let you know when I'll be coming up here, give you advance warning. I won't just show up, even if it's spur of the moment. And, while I'm here, I'd very much like us to have meals together unless I'm here with John.”

“He's not coming on to you Christie,” he said, seeing Christie's hesitancy. “He just doesn't like eating alone. Besides, you know you're always welcome here.”

“Oh, one other thing,” Neal said. “I'll arrange for all bills to be sent to me in New York and take care of them from there.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Fire away.”

“Just what is it you do for a living?”

“I'm a security consultant,” Neal said. “Not meaning to brag...”

Much,” he put in.

“Hush,” Neal said, directing a mock scowl at him. “Anyway, I'm considered one of the best if not the best in the city since I've beaten or could beat any security system out there. There are people who are willing to pay top dollar for that service which is why I can afford to be so generous. Anything else you want to know about me, you can ask him.”

Christie gave him an inquiring look - “how does he know that?” - and he answered. “Neal was the best white collar criminal to come along in a long time,” he said. “I spent three years chasing him while he pulled off some of the most spectacular heists we'd ever seen, worth millions. He could get through anything from simple locks to state of the art security systems.”

“Braxnet,” Neal said.

“I think they're still smarting from that,” he said. “So is Bianca.”

“Sounds like and interesting story,” Christie commented.

“Anyway, because of my knowledge and expertise, I can advise others on how to prevent breaches in their security.” He pulled out one of his business cards and wrote briefly on the back before handing it to her. “If you have any questions or suggestions, feel free to call me at any of those numbers.”

Christie nodded, tucking the card away. She let out a breath and stood. “Thank you again,” she said, shaking Neal's hand. “For everything.”

“No thanks necessary,” Neal said as the three of them walked to the door. “I look forward to our association. I think it will prove beneficial to both of us.”

Almost before the door closed behind her, Neal had him up against it, devouring his mouth as he proceeded to undress him. “Been waiting to do that all day,” he said.

He grabbed Neal by the wrists and, with a slightly wicked glint in his eyes, pulled him over to the couch and into his lap and proceeded to ravish his mouth. Holding both wrists in one hand, he let the other travel over Neal's body before coming to rest on his groin, feeling his arousal. Neal began writhing, trying to get some friction but he stilled him, earning him a frustrated groan.

“Peter...” Neal breathed when her let him loose to kiss along his jaw and neck.

“Patience, grasshopper,” he whispered, nipping his ear and felt him shiver.

“Well, you know me. Instant grati...” He was abruptly stopped by a tongue invading his mouth. “What are you doing?” he asked when he could catch his breath.

“Testing a theory,” he said.

“What theory?”

“If I'm right, you'll know,” he said.

Before Neal could ask or comment, he closed His mouth with his own, licking deep. He'd always loved the way Neal tasted and now it seemed like he couldn't get enough. He didn't realize he'd loosened his hold until her felt Neal's hands card through his hair before clasping around his neck. He was vaguely aware of Neal's breathing becoming ragged and the soft whimpers in the back of his throat and his rubbing up against his hand. Reflexively, he trailed his fingers over his erection, making Neal gasp softly. He delved deeper into Neal's mouth and felt him stiffen and he clutched his shoulders. Neal's back arched and he shook as he came.

“Christ, Peter,” Neal panted as he caught his breath.

“So, I was right,” he said, brushing Neal's hair back.

“About?”

“What just happened,” he said.

Neal looked down at himself, seeing the wet spot on the front of his slacks. “I'm still dressed,” he said a little dazedly. “You're still dressed. That has to change. Just... let me catch my breath first.”

“Ready for round two?” he asked.

“We haven't finished round one yet,” Neal said. “Or at least you haven't.”

The rest of the evening was spent just as pleasantly and left both men deliciously exhausted. He leaned over Neal and kissed him once they caught their breath.

“Mmm, testing your theory again?” Neal asked with a soft smile.

“I'd love to but I have duty tomorrow,” he said. He pulled the younger man close, enjoying the weight against him, wishing, not for the first time that Neal could stay with him.

WCWCWCWC

Elizabeth answered the phone on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Oh, hi, is Neal there?”

“May I ask who's calling?”

“Christie Eldridge.”

“Just a moment please.” She covered the phone and called upstairs. “Neal! Phone!” As he took it from her she asked, “Who's Christie?” It came out a bit sharper than she'd intended and she winced.

“She's the caretaker I hired for the house in Greenhill,” he said. He saw her somewhat skeptical look and added, “We'll talk later, okay?” At her nod, he turned his attention to the phone. “Christie, is there a problem?”

“No, not really. I called to tell you that the furniture you ordered is here,” Christie said. “And what looks like... art supplies? Also about my room...”

“You decorate it however you want,” Neal said. “It's your space.”

“All right. So what about the furniture?”

“Have the movers leave it where they can,” Neal said. “And there should be more deliveries in the next few days. I should be able to get up there this weekend.” He paused, thinking. “Tell you what. Call John and ask if he'll help you get things situated. And don't let him tell you he wouldn't know. He knows me better than anyone. As for the art supplies, put them in the bedroom at the top of the stairs, if you would.”

“Will do,” Christie said. “I'll let you know when the other stuff gets here. You have a good day.”

“So, Christie,” Elizabeth said when he hung up.

“Like I said, she's the caretaker for the house in Greenhill,” Neal said.

“Sounds kinda young,” Elizabeth said. “Sure she can handle it?”

“Peter thinks so,” Neal said. “He's the one who suggested her.”

“So what's she like?”

He heard the real question and answered it. “Not my type and too young,” he said. “Can'[t be more than twenty-three.”

“But she'll be living there...”

“She'll have her own space, yes,” Neal said. He cupped her face, giving her a light kiss. “Nothing will happen with her,” he said. “I promise.” He let out a breath. “Are you free this weekend?”

 

“No, I have the Manotti wedding,” she said. “And Angie Manotti is turning into the bridezilla from hell. Just this morning she wanted to change the centerpieces from orchids to lilies and that was after she'd insisted on Princess Diana roses... after she'd had her heart set on camellias.”

“Yvonne can't handle it?”

“She'd tear Yvonne apart,” Elizabeth said. “I'd suggested it before but Yvonne threatened to quit if I did.”

Neal pushed aside the uneasy feeling he was getting, the uneasy feeling that told him that Elizabeth was just making up an excuse not to go with him, that she was pulling away from not only him but Peter even as she clung more tightly to him. Meeting Christie would set her mind at ease but she didn't want to,

“Is everything all right?” he asked.

Elizabeth sighed, smiling a little. “It's fine. I'm fine. Just this wedding. Ms. Manotti wants the full fairly tale wedding and is giving me only two weeks to pull it together.”

Neal's unease grew. He knew Elizabeth had been working on the Manotti wedding for almost a month and that the wedding itself wasn't for another two months. Elizabeth had just lied to him and he didn't know what to make of it. But before he could call her on it, his cell rang.

“This is Caffrey.”

“Sir, you need to get in here,” his assistant said.

“What's the problem?”

“Mr. Blankenship. He's had a break in.”

Neal sighed. “Let me guess, he hasn't installed the new system yet.”

“Not yet. He said it was scheduled for next week.”

“What was taken? Did he say?”

“A Degas, two Warhols and a Manet. And his wife's jewelry.”

“All right,” Neal said. “Call him and and tell him I'll inform the Bureau that I have a case for them.”

“The Bureau?”

“This falls under the White Collar division's jurisdiction,” Neal said. “Since we're talking close to six million dollars worth of art.”

“And the jewelry? How is that a Bureau matter?”

“Ever hear of the robbery at La Joyau Precieux? That was two point three million dollars of pink diamond. Bureau was called in on the case.”

“Okay, I'll call Mr. Blankenship, you make your calls,” Carla said.

“Tell him to get whatever security video he has. The techs are gonna want to go over it.”

“What's the problem?” Elizabeth asked when he hung up.

Neal groaned, sounding frustrated. “Client of mine,” he said. “Came to me about plugging the holes in his security... two months ago. He still hasn't put the new system in and someone walked off with about six million in art and who knows how much in jewelry.”

“Security that bad?”

“So bad he practically didn't have any,” Neal said, sounding disgusted. “I told him to get it installed as soon as possible, otherwise...”

“Otherwise he'd find himself where he is now,” Elizabeth said.

Ninety minutes later, Neal was in the familiar offices on the twenty first floor, going over what he knew of the case with Jones while they waited for the security tapes to arrive.

“So, client of yours,” Jones said.

“Yeah,” Neal said. “If he hadn't been so negligent I'd be tempted to refund his money.”

“He contracts you to look over his security, you make your recommendations and he... what?”

“Didn't implement them,” Neal said. “This was two months ago, Jones. Installation of the new system wouldn't have taken more than a week, ten days. He didn't have it scheduled until next week.”

”How's his current system?”

“Has holes big enough to drive a truck through... literally,” Neal said. “Even the most inept thief could get through with little trouble. Plenty of blind spots and the cameras were obvious. I'd be willing to bet that one in three were fake.”

There was a soft knock on the door and a probie stuck his head in. “For the Blankenship case, sir,” he said, handing Jones the file.

“Security tapes come yet?”

“No, sir. I'll bring them up when they get here.”

As the door closed, Neal's phone rang.

“This is Caffrey.” As he listened to his assistant, his expression went from disbelief to something approaching disgust. “All right, Carla, I'll let them know.” He put his phone away. “I was wrong about the cameras,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Don't bother waiting for video, there isn't any. All the cameras were dummies. Just for show.”

Jones sat back. “Okay, looks like we stick to good, old fashioned detective work,” he said. “How would you have done it?”

“Wait until he and his wife are gone, walk in, take what I want and walk right back out.”

“Okay, art on the walls, jewelry... tell me this guy at least had a safe.”

“Jewelry armoire, latched, not locked,” Neal said.

Jones shook his head. “I know I shouldn't say this but this guy deserved to get robbed. He does know how valuable this stuff is, right?”

“He knows,” Neal said. “I got a look at the appraisals of each piece, art and jewelry. Jewels alone are valued at close to three million.”

”So he has all this expensive stuff and goes super cheap on security?” He looked down at the case file, at the list of stolen items. “Did he at least tell you who had access?”

“No, I was just there to look over the system – what there was of it – and tell him what he should do to close the holes,” Neal said.

“Sounds like it was all holes,” Jones said.

“All he had was motion activated lights around the perimeter... and the fake cameras.”

Jones studied him for a moment then asked, “This won't blow back on you, will it?”

“I doubt it,” Neal said. “I have two types of clients. Event planners like Elizabeth, where I provide security and those like the unfortunate Mr. Blankenship, where I advise on what measures to take to prevent shit like this happening. I can't force anyone to implement my recommendations any more that someone could force you to lock your apartment when you leave. He paid me to look over his security measures and make my recommendation on how to tighten them up. Obviously he was too slow in putting them in place. What really surprises me is that it didn't happen before this.”

“Someone heard he was upgrading and decided to get while the getting was good?”

Neal let out a humorless laugh and stood. “I'm going to get out of here unless you still need me,” he said.

“If I do, I'll give you a call,” Jones said.

“Just so you know, I'm headed up to Vermont this weekend. Have some moving in to do.”

“You're leaving New York?”

“No, I just got a place up there for the weekends, vacations,” Neal said. “You know, to get away from the hustle and bustle.”

Jones sat back. “How's Peter doing?” he asked.

“How'd you know?”

“I know you and I know Peter,” Jones said. “I know once you set your mind to something, there's not much that will stop you. I think Peter was the only one who could.”

Neal smiled. “I think you're right,” he said. “As for your question, he's doing fine. Very settled into the life of John Lassiter, small town deputy.”

“I don't imagine there's much crime there,” Jones said.

“A few domestic disturbances, speeding, petty theft,” Neal said. “Last time I was up there, we stopped a pickpocket.” Seeing Jones' interest, he recounted the story of seeing a pickpocket lift a woman's wallet and how he'd gotten it back and returned it. “Made me cringe for pickpockets everywhere, he was so sloppy,” neal said. He let out a breath. “Well, I'm out of here. Give me a call if you need anything.”

“Will do,” Jones said. “Have a safe trip.”

WCWCWCWC

“You're sure you can't come with me?” Neal asked Elizabeth as he packed.

“I told you, Manotti wedding,” Elizabeth said. “And I have an additional guests to accommodate.”

“Anything you want me to tell Peter?”

“Just that I'll be up there when I get the time,” Elizabeth said. “When will you be back?”

“I should be back Monday, Tuesday at the latest,” Neal said. “Anything you need before I go?”

“No, no, I'm good,” Elizabeth said. She gave him a quick kiss. “Drive safe.”

He made one stop before he left the city – The Greatest Cake to pick up two dozen red velvet cupcakes for Christie and her father.

Hr pulled into his driveway early afternoon to find Christie waiting for him. “Settled in?” he asked, handing her the bakery boxes.

“Almost,” Christie said, peeking inside. “Still have some clothes to move over. Other than that, I'm good. So, let me show you around, tell me what you think.”

First stop was the living room, furnished with pieces made of leather and – two club chairs flanking the couch with end tables on each side and facing the fireplace. The room was carpeted in rich Berber a shade of blue that reflected that of the walls. In one corner was a state of the art stereo system.

“So far, so good,” Neal said. “Next.”

Next was the kitchen, small and intimate but with modern conveniences – four burner stove, stainless steel refrigerator and double sink. On the counter was an espresso machine, a set of chef's knives, canisters for flour, sugar and coffee and a butcherblock cutting board. The drawers were filled with cutlery and other kitchen utensils. The cupboards held stoneware plates and bowls, ceramic coffee cups, glass tumblers and below them was the microwave and a wineglass rack. In the corner, near the window was a small dining table and four chairs.

“If you give me a list, I can go to the store and stock the fridge,” Christie said. “I may not be able to get everything...” She paused, shrugging a little. “John said you have expensive tastes.”

“For the most part I do,” Neal said. “But I'm not above getting a pizza or having a burger and fries. We'll go shopping later, okay? Besides, you'll be eating here more than I will.”

The only other room on the ground floor was Christie's bedroom and bathroom and Neal elected to bypass that and followed her upstairs.

Upstairs were three bedrooms and one bath, one of which Neal intended to convert into a studio. Stacked in one corner were half a dozen canvasses, an easel and his cases of paints, brushes, pencils, charcoals and sketchpads.

“So, you're and artist too?” Christie asked.

“I'm pretty good,” Neal said. “I could paint something on your wall if you want.”

“I'll think about it,” Christie said, leading him out into the hall. The other two bedrooms were furnished much the same – queen sized beds with oak frames, four drawer dressers, also oak and an overstuffed chair and side table near the window.

“Linens are in the closet by the bathroom,” Christie said. She looked at him a little inquisitively.

“You did a great job,” Neal said. “Wouldn't change a thing.”

“Well, even though the kitchen isn't fully stocked yet, I can still make us lunch,” Christie said as they went downstairs.

As Christie made them a light lunch, Neal took a better look at the kitchen. “This place has a basement, doesn't it?” he asked.

“More root cellar than anything,” Christie said. “Why?”

“Those expensive tastes John told you about? Definitely applies to wine,” he said. “I'll take a look later and see what can be done.”

“Well, there's a fairly large pantry, would that work?” Christie asked. She indicated a door opposite the table. “Mrs. Grumman liked to put up canned goods.”

“Did you know the Grumman's?”

“Mrs. Grumman was my sixth grade teacher,” Christie said. “Their youngest is my age and we hung out a lot, h ad sleep overs during the summer.” She studied him a moment then asked, “What about you? Where'd you grow up?”

“St. Louis,” Neal said. “And, like you, my dad was a cop. Left St. Louis when I was eighteen for New York. I traveled a bit until I was in my mid-twenties then settled back in New York.”

“John said you were the best white collar criminal they'd seen in a long time. That true?”

Neal shrugged, smiling a little. “That's what they say,” he said.

“You do time?”

“Four years,” he said. “Bond forgery. That's all they could make stick. And it was really my own damned fault.”

“What happened, if you don't mind saying?”

So Neal told her the story of how he'd forged a supposedly unforgable bond, taken it to a Midtown bank to cash it in and bumped into the FBI agent who was investigating a string of counterfeit bonds on the way out, pausing to ask about them and expressing his concern about his own bonds... then handing the agent a lime sucker before going on his way. “It was because I gave him that sucker that he was able to put me at the bank when the forged bond was cashed,” Neal said. “I was young, cocky and thought I was too smart to get caught.”

“John was the agent?”

“Yeah, and he was the only one who could keep up with me,” Neal said. “There were a few times I barely got away.”

“So how'd he finally catch you?”

“My girlfriend,” Neal said. “I hadn't seen her in a while so he had her tailed, knowing I'd meet up with her at some point. I did and he and his team were right there.”

“So where is she now? Your girlfriend?”

“She's dead. Plane crash.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It was years ago,” Neal said.

“Dad said you worked as John's CI. How'd that happen?”

“Three months shy of the end of my sentence I escaped because I thought my girlfriend was in serious trouble, like, life threatening trouble,” Neal said. “And again, John caught me. I got another four years for that. But when he came to put the cuffs on again, I saw something on his jacket. I told him what it was in exchange for a meeting. He agreed and I proposed the deal we had. I'd serve my four years helping him and the Bureau catch guys like me. They came at a case from their side and I came at it from the other. I explained how I would pull off some of these jobs, tell them who could have done it and suggested ways to catch the person who did.” He drained his water glass and said, “It was during that time time John and I became friends and partners. We had some rough times but we worked through them. He's the only person I trust absolutely and that's saying something from someone who used to be a professional liar. Con artists don't trust anybody because we really can't be trusted.”

“But you've gone straight,” Christie said.

“Yes, I have,” Neal said. “Oh, occasionally I get the itch to pull a con or acquire something by less than legal means but what stops me is the thought of how disappointed John would be if I did.” He let out a breath. “So, shopping. What time does the store close?”

“Weekends they close at eight,” Christie said.

“And when do you work?”

“Saturday from open to three so you'll have the place to yourself most of the day.”

Before they left, Christie put one box of cupcakes on the counter and took the other with her to drop off at her dad's. Neal handed her the keys to the car, explaining, “You know the area better than I do right now so you drive.” On their way to the store Neal called Mozzie. “Moz, feel like a trip out of town?”

“To your new place? I think I can find the time.”

“Great. I need a favor. If you could bring a few bottles from my stock, I'd appreciate it.”

“The Shiraz? Bordeaux? Burgundy?”

“All of the above,” Neal said. “Two each I think should do it.”

“Can do, mon frere. How long are you staying?”

“Until Monday.”

“I'll be there tomorrow.”

“Thanks Moz. See you then.”

WCWCWCWC

He was waiting for them when they got back and helped them unload the groceries. Neal thanked him for his help in arranging the furniture but he waved it off, saying it was mostly Christie's doing.

“I noticed the art supplies,” he said. “Setting up a studio?”

“Upstairs,” Neal said. “It'll be quiet and I can work undisturbed... which reminds me, Moz will be here tomorrow.”

“And why is Moz venturing out of New York?”

“He's bringing me a few bottles from my stock,” Neal said. “And no doubt appropriating a bottle for himself.”

“And who'll take care of the dogs while he's here?”

“Elizabeth,” Neal said. “I asked her to come with me but she said she couldn't. Apparently she's dealing with a bridezilla of epic proportions and she didn't want Yvonne to deal with it.”

He gave Neal a look that said he knew there was more that wasn't being said but let it pass for the time being. Instead he asked, “So, you two are getting to know each other?”

“We had an... interesting talk earlier,” Christie said. “He told me how you caught him.”

“You tell her about the sucker?”

“Almost had to really,” Neal said. “Considering how things turned out, I can't really say I regret doing it.”

“We had some interesting times, didn't we?”

“Yeah, we did,” Neal said. “Though I could have done without some of them. They were interesting in the wrong way.”

“Can you tell me about any of them or are they classified?” Christie asked.

So they took turns telling her of some of their more interesting cases - the Haustenberg, the pink diamond (going into more detail), the dirty federal judge, the time they switched places and brought down a man committing energy fraud – staying away from any concerning Fowler and Adler.

“So you were more than just a thief,” Christie said as they ate the dinner Neal had prepared while they talked.

“Thief, con artist, forger. My talents were varied.” Neal said that last a bit wryly.

“It was the skill he had as a con artist that made him a natural at undercover work,” he said.

“You weren't too bad yourself,” Neal said. “Lassen for the Novice Systems case, Edison for the boiler room.”

“You were poisoned?” Christie asked, wide-eyed when they told her about Novice Systems.

“Unintentionally,” he said. “The woman was going after the CEO because he'd killed h er boyfriend. She'd poisoned the Armagnac.” He patted Neal's hand. “It was Neal here that saved both of us once he realized what she'd done.”

“That was entirely too close,” Neal said. “I'd have gotten you help a lot sooner if you hadn't insisted I go back for Kent.”

“It was the right thing to do,” he said.

“So the woman's in prison now?”

“Attempted murder, two counts,” he said.

“Not the usual dinner conversation,” Neal said leaning back. “But it's nice to reminisce.”

“No complaint from me,” Christie said. “I thought it was fascinating.”

“Well, most of the job was a lot more boring,” Neal said. “Embezzlement, mortgage fraud, investment scams and lots and lots of paperwork.”

He pushed back and started gathering the dishes but Neal relieved him of them. “You're a guest,” he said.

“You cooked,” he countered.

“Well, I didn't cook and I'm not exactly a guest so I'll do the dishes,” Christie said, lifting the plates from Neal's hands.

“You'll have your hands full with this one,” he said, amused as they left Christie to clean up.

Neal glanced back, a smile touching his mouth “I think we'll get along just fine,” he said.

“So, what's the real reason Elizabeth didn't come with you?” he asked as they sat on the front porch.

“I think she's pulling away. From both of us,” Neal said. “Her reason was because of a wedding. She said she only had two weeks to pull it together.”

“And?”

“Peter, she's been working on this wedding for almost a month,” Neal said. “The wedding itself isn't for another two. She lied to me.”

“Did you call her on it?”

“Couldn't,” Neal said. “Got a call about an idiot client right then.”

“What happened?”

“A couple months ago I get a call to assess this client's security<' Neal said. “He didn't have much – a few cameras and motion activated lights. Anyway, I get a call saying he'd been robbed. He hadn't installed the new system yet.”

“What did they get?”

“A Degas, a Manet and two Warhols plus his wife's jewelry,” Neal said. “Turns out there was no video since all the cameras were dummies.”

And the jewelry? They crack the safe?”

“No safe,” Neal said. “I called Jones, let him know and told him what I knew.” He let out an amused breath. “He asked how I'd have done it and I said I'd wait until the client and his wife were gone, walk in, take what I wanted and walk back out. Even if the cameras had been real, it wouldn't have taken much to pull off the heist.”

“So what was the take?”

“With the art, about six million, give or take. The jewelry, two point seven. I haven't pulled anything that easy since the day I met Moz when he was running Find The Lady.”

“You miss it?” he asked.

“I haven't completely left,” Neal said. “What I really miss is working with you. We were the best team the Bureau had.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while before he stood. “I'd better get home,” he said. “Let you settle in.”

“See you tomorrow?”

“I have duty until four,” he said. “I could stop by after.”

“I'd like that,” Neal said. “See you then.”

He brought his hand up to caress Neal's face but resisted the urge to kiss him, aware of Christie just inside the house.

Later, as she helped him make the bed in the room next to his studio, he asked, “Why'd you take this job?”

She didn't answer as she slipped on a pillowcase. “Because I trust John. As much as you apparently do. He told me you wouldn't try anything with me and I believe him.”

“I won't,” Neal said. “First and foremost, I'm involved with someone and I don't step out.” His mouth quirked in a wry grin. “Add to that, John threatened severe consequences if I hurt you in any way.” He paused as he turned down the covers. “He cares about you, you know. I think he thinks of you as a daughter in a way.”

“He doesn't have kids?” Christie asked. “He never really talks about his family.”

“No, no kids,” Neal said. “His job got in the way, kept him out for days at a time sometimes and his exwife was just as busy. Not exactly prime circumstances for starting a family.”

“You have kids?”

“Not that I”m aware of,” Neal said. “You have to remember what my life was like before John caught me.”

Christie smile. “Yeah, a life on the run doesn't leave much time to put down roots,” she said.

“So, the fact that I was a white collar criminal – a very successful one at that – doesn't bother you?”

“If it did, I wouldn't have taken this job,” Christie said, leaning against the wall. “Besides, you did your time, paid your debt.”

“Well, to the law I did,” Neal said. “The debt I owe to John... Well, I don't think that'll ever be paid. And I'm okay with that.”

WCWCWCWC

“Remember, call if there are any problems,” Neal said as he loaded his bags in the trunk on Monday morning.

“Will do,” Christie said. “And I'll have everything ready for you next time you're here.”

“I have no doubt,” Neal said. “Anything you need before I go?”

“No, I'm good,” Christie said. “Of course, I wouldn't say no to more of those cupcakes next time you're up.”

“Consider it done,” Neal said, sliding behind the wheel.

“And don't forget to say goodbye to John.”

“Wouldn't dare forget.”

When Neal got back to Brooklyn, the house was empty but he found a note from Elizabeth propped upon the dining room table.

“Gone to Greenhill to see Peter since I got Yvonne to oversee the prep for the Manotti wedding for a few days. Should be back by Wednesday. Love, El.” 

Again, he got that uneasy feeling, the feeling that Elizabeth was lying to him or at least hiding something. His ability to read people hadn't dimmed and Elizabeth's body language had told him something was definitely on her mind.

A whine from both Louis and Satchmo brought him back to the present and he let them out and filled their dishes. If h e didn't know how Satchmo would react, he'd seriously consider returning Louis to Peter.

His thoughts returned to Elizabeth's not. There was really no reason she couldn't have called him to let him know – Greenhill had excellent cell reception. Even him being on the road when she left shouldn't have been an issue since both cars had hands-free. He stepped out back, watching as the dogs did a perimeter check, debating on whether to give her a call. He pulled out his phone, dialing Elizabeth's number. Four rings later, it rolled to voicemail. “Just wanted to make sure you made it safely. Give me a call when you can.” Hanging up, he looked thoughtfully at his phone then made another call after shooing the dogs back inside.

“Lassiter.

“Peter, Neal.”

“Miss me already?”

“Always,” Neal said. “Listen, can you do me a favor?”

“If I can.”

“Elizabeth left a note, saying she was on her way up there...”

“You want me to call you when she shows up?”

“Actually if she shows up,” Neal said.

“What makes you think she won't?”

“I don't know,” Neal said. “She's been... off lately. And she did lie to me about the wedding.”

There was silence on the other end then, quietly, “Neal, what's going on?”

“I wish I knew, Peter,” he said. “She doesn't really talk to me any more and there's this thing about the wedding... and she really wasn't happy about Christie.”

“She knows you wouldn't cheat on her.”

“No, I wouldn't.”

“But you have been up here a lot lately.”

“And every time I asked her to go with me, she's refused,” Neal said.

“Have you called her?”

“I got voicemail,” Neal said.

“If I see her, I'll let you know.”

“Thanks and I'll try to get back up there soon.”

Behind him, the door opened and he turned to see Mozzie entering.

“Oh, you're back,” Moz said, juggling grocery bags as he pushed the door closed.

“Just got back,” Neal said, relieving him of most of the bags. As they put things away – Neal was pleased to see a nice bottle of Bordeaux – he asked, “Moz, has Elizabeth seemed... off to you lately? Have you noticed?”  
“No more than usual since this thig with Peter,” Moz said. “Why?”

“She lied to me about the Manotti wedding,” Neal said. He didn't bother racking the wine, just uncorked it and poured a generous amount into two wineglasses, handing one to his friend. “She's hiding something and I don't know what. She's pulling away.”

“Well, you have been spending a lot of time with Peter,” Moz said.

“And I've asked her to go with me,” Neal said. “I know she's had the time, more than she's admitted. I mean, if she really wants Peter back, why won't she take the time to tell him?”

“Have you asked her?”

“I've tried but she's almost as good at redirecting as I am,” Neal said. “And when I push she says she doesn't want to talk about it.”

“Do you want me to talk to her?” Moz asked. “I may be able to get through to her since I”m not emotionally invested.”

Neal nodded, silent for a while. “Am I losing her too, Moz?”

“I don't know, mon frere,” Moz said. “But on the other hand, you really haven't lost Peter. “ He shook off the somber mood by saying, “So, Christie. She seems to be working out.”

“So far,” Neal said. “I don't see any problems ahead, even after I told her about my sordid past.”

“Your past is not sordid, my friend,” Moz said. “You tell her everything?”

“The highlights,” Neal said. “We spent a pleasant evening with Peter, going over old cases. I found out more about her. It was... nice. And I can see why Peter cares about her.”

“He does?”

“Oh yeah. When I first proposed this arrangement Peter was very clear that it wasn't just her father I'd be answering to if I hurt her,” Neal said.

“Well, he does have a rather marked protective streak.”

Neal's phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket, frowning a little when he saw who it was. “Yeah, Christie?”

“Sorry to bother you but there's a woman here who insists that I let her in.”

“Who is she?”

He heard the frustration when Christie sighed. “She wouldn't say.”

Neal bit his lip, having his suspicions. “Put her on please.” He waited until the phone changed hands then asked, “Elizabeth, what are you doing?”

“I told you I was coming up here.

“To see Peter, not harass my caretaker,” Neal said. “Or were you checking up on me to see if I was holding out on you?” He closed his eyes when her silence answered him. “Elizabeth, I've never lied to you,” he said. “So you can believe me when I tell you that the closest relationship I'll have with Christie is friendship. And that's only if she wants that.” He paused a moment then said, “You should know that if she has any trouble, from anyone, she can and will call Peter.”

“So why'd she call you?”

“Because it's my house and I told her if she had any problems to call me,” Neal said. “I just wasn't expecting this kind of problem.” He paused again. “She's a sweet kid, Elizabeth and if you let yourself, I think you'd like her.”

“This, coming from one of the biggest womanizers in New York,” Elizabeth nearly spat.

“Do you hear yourself?” Neal asked, angry and stung. “I haven't even looked at another woman – not since you and Peter – so how dare you? How dare you question me when you've been lying to me for weeks?”

“I haven't!”

“The Manotti wedding.” He wished he could see her face but he could imagine the shocked expression. “Yeah, I know about that,” he said. I know that wedding isn't for another two months so I have to ask myself why you lied about it.”

“Neal...”

“I can't talk to you right now, Elizabeth, “ he said. “If you're going to stay up there, I suggest you go to the inn.”

“But...”

“No, you will not stay in my house,” Neal said firmly. “I won't have you giving Christie a hard time. She has nothing to do with this and she doesn't deserve it. Now, let me talk to her.” He waited while the phone changed hands again, hearing Elizabeth muttering in the background.

“She doesn't look too happy,” Christie said.

“No, I don't imagine she does,” Neal said. “Just make sure she leaves and if she bothers you again, call either your father or John, okay?”

“Will do,” Christie said. “And thanks.”

“No need to thank me or apologize,” Neal said. He was silent for a while after he hung up, sipping his wine.

“Neal?”

He looked at his friend, seeing the concern. “I can't stay here, Moz,” he said. “Not when things are falling apart like this.”

“What about Elizabeth?”

Neal shook his head. “I don't know,” he said. “Maybe Peter leaving meant we were over.”

“Are you staying here tonight?” Moz asked. “Because if not, Tuesday's available.”

Neal's mouth quirked. “Thursday? I've always liked the view.”

“Or... you know June still has your old place available,” Moz said. You know she wouldn't mind.”

“I thought you were staying there.”

Moz shrugged. “Eh, I'm here more than I am there,” he said.

“I'll pack a few things after dinner. If you'll give June a call.”

WCWCWCWC

He looked up, hearing tires crunch on the gravel drive and wondered who could be there at that hour. Not that it was that late but he rarely have uninvited guests after five.

When nobody knocked after a few minutes, he got up and opened the door, not really surprised to see Elizabeth, sitting in her car looking a little lost in the early evening light.

“Elizabeth?” he asked, leaning in the window.

“What did I do, Peter?”she asked, not meeting his gaze.

“What do you mean?”

“I'm losing Neal,” she said. “To you.”

He sighed, straightening. “Come on inside,” he said.

As he busied himself making coffee and Elizabeth perched on the edge of the couch, he wondered what had happened to the strong, confident, capable woman he'd married all those years ago.

“So, tell me,” he said, handing her a cup.

“It's just he's never home, between business and coming here,” she said, cradling the cup as if drawing warmth from it. He noticed it shook slightly.

“He's asked you to come with him,” he said. “Why didn't you?”

“I didn't think you'd want to see me,” Elizabeth said.

“El...”He sighed. “It's not that I don't want to see you,” he said. “It's that I don't think I can be with both of you. Not after what happened.”

“But you'd rather be with Neal.”

“I want to be with both of you,” he said. “But not on the outside.”

“I told you...”

“I know what you said Elizabeth,” he said. “But that's not what you did. You hurt me Elizabeth, more than Neal ever could.” He paused a moment to consider her. “And now you're pushing him away, just like you did with me, only this time there's no one else.” Her gaze snapped up to meet his. “Yes, he told me about the wedding, about how you lied to him about it. The Elizabeth I knew, the one Neal knew, would never make us choose. And that's what you're doing.”

“You did.”

“I chose neither of you,” he said. “I chose not to stay on the outside, chose not to have my heart broken every day. I didn't choose you and I didn't choose Neal. I didn't ask him to choose so why are you?”

Silence fell as they sipped their coffee and he wondered what she was thinking. Once upon a time he would have known but the Elizabeth sitting in his living room was a virtual stranger. The silence was broken when his phone rang.

“Lassiter.” He listened for a minute, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at Elizabeth. “She all right? Yes, of course she is. She's like her dad.” Another pause. “Yes, she's here and I”ll talk to her.” Pause. “Love you too.”He very carefully set his phone down and regarded Elizabeth almost as he would a suspect.

“That was Neal.” It wasn't a question.

“Yes, it was,” he said. “And I would very much appreciate it if you left Christie out of your problems with him.”

“And who is she to you?” Elizabeth asked a little acidly. “Did you trade me in for a younger model?”

“Who she is, is the daughter of a good friend,” he said. “Who she is to Neal is an employee. And no, my intention was not to set them up. He needed a caretaker, I suggested Christie because she's responsible, level headed and smart. And believe it or not, she wasn't all that charmed by him. She found him interesting, yeah but that was it.” He sighed, regarding her a moment. “What happened to you Elizabeth?”

“What happened?” Elizabeth asked sharply. “What happened is my husband left me and now I'm losing the only other man I love... to my ex.”

“I'm not taking him from you,” he said. “The Elizabeth I knew took ownership of her mistakes. The one here is Blaming Neal for distancing himself because you're shutting him out. After all this time, you should know how sensitive he is. Everyone he loved either left him or was taken from him – Kate, Ellen, his father... me... and now you. I. At least, am willing to meet him halfway, let him in again. He still loves you Elizabeth and he's wondering why you're doing this to him. And I think the question is: why are you doing this?”

Elizabeth sat her coffee cup down a bit harder than necessary, spilling some on the table and stood. “I knew it was a mistake coming here,” she said. “I should have known you'd take his side.”

“I'm not taking anyone's side,” Elizabeth,” he said. “If you'd just think...” He didn't get to finish before she stalked to the door and left, slamming it behind her. Seconds later he heard her car spitting gravel as she pulled out.

He sighed, taking the cups into the kitchen. He needed something stronger than coffee, stronger than beer and retrieved a bottle of single malt scotch from the cupboard and poured a generous amount into a tumbler. He couldn't help but feel a little guilty about how things were between the two of them – if he hadn't left then they wouldn't be having these problems. But he didn't think he was wrong to put himself first in the situation as it had been. They'd both essentially ignored him, treated him as secondary, an adjunct, not as an integral part of the relationship. So, to protect his own heart, he'd left. But what he'd told Elizabeth was true – he was willing to meet halfway as was Neal. Neal had reached out, made the first overture to reconcile with him and hadn't pushed to return to what had been. Elizabeth had to be somewhat ruthless in the business world and now, it seemed, she was bringing some of that ruthlessness into her personal life and now it was creating distance between her and Neal. She was becoming hard and it wouldn't end well.

WCWCWCWC

“Where's Neal?”

“He's staying at June's for a while,” Moz said. “He needs some space.”

“So when are you leaving?” Elizabeth asked, pouring a glass of wine.

“Neal hasn't left you,” Moz said. “But if this continues he might.”

Elizabeth snorted derisively. “Let me guess, he blames me for all this too.”

“No, he doesn't,” Moz said. “He knows you both made mistakes with Peter but he's wondering why you're pulling away, why you seem to be blaming him for the way things are now.” He paused, cleaning his glasses. “I heard what happened with Christie and that wasn't the Elizabeth I knew. That Elizabeth would have known Neal would never think of cheating on her. That Elizabeth knew that for Neal to find someone else would take having his heart broken. You're breaking his heart, Elizabeth and the only reason I know he'll survive it is because he has Peter – and me.” He stopped to pour himself a glass then continued, “He survived losing Peter because of you, just like he survived losing Kate because of both of you. You know him well enough to know he needs someone to anchor him, to ground him. He's always needed that and he's had that since he started working with the Feds – with Peter.”

“Seems it's always coming back to Peter,” Elizabeth said a little bitterly.

“You two were a matched set,” Moz said. “Neal knew that. He always wanted what you had. He stayed because of Peter, yes, but he knew you were part of the deal and he accepted that. He wanted that. But there's only so far you can push him before he quits trying and, sad to say, he's reaching that limit.”

“So you're blaming me too,” Elizabeth said.

“Not for all of it but you do hold some responsibility. You and Neal shut Peter out so he left. Now you're shutting Neal out,” Moz said. He sighed. “He adores you El but his first instinct has always been to protect himself. He never imagined he'd have to protect himself from you. He's been more honest with you than he ever was with Kate, with anyone – including me – and you've returned that honesty by lying to him and holding back. How else do you think he should react to that? You and Neal broke what the three of you had and now you're breaking what the two of you have. Neal's tried to talk to you about this but you won't.”

“He's never here,” Elizabeth said. “He's either at work or with Peter.”

“And he's asked you to go with him,” Moz said. “Why haven't you?”

“I've been busy. Don't have the time.”

“Don't have the time or won't make the time?”

Elizabeth didn't answer, just grabbed the bottle and her glass and went into the dining room, pulling up her laptop. “Thanks for watching the dogs, Moz,” she said, a clear dismissal.

“Glad to do it,” Moz said, gathering his things. Once at the door, he looked back. Elizabeth seemed intent on her laptop but he suspected her mind wasn't entirely on work. He sighed softly and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

Elizabeth stared at her laptop, not bothering to dry the tears that rolled down her face. Everyone was pulling away from her – she'd lost Peter, Neal, it seemed, was ready to leave and even Moz was distancing himself. She fiddled with her phone, tempted to call Neal but decided not to. She'd heard how angry he'd been the last time they talked and she admitted to some shame at her treatment of his caretaker. That wasn't her – at least it didn't used to be. She used to be the kind of person who'd welcomed a felon into her home, one serving time helping her husband catch people like him. Her instincts had told her he'd never hurt her and she'd been right. Now, it seemed she was a bitter, approaching-middle-age woman who appeared to be shutting out everyone who mattered to her and she didn't know how it that happened. Nor did she know how to fix it. But something dark in her mind warned her to keep Neal at arm's length or he'd hurt her like Peter had – she had to protect herself. And it wasn't as if Neal were blameless in this, she told herself. He was a con man wasn't he? It should have been second nature to charm her, almost a reflex. He'd done it for years to other women, both as a criminal and as a consultant. As for Peter, hadn't more than ten years taught him he could talk to her, about anything? But he hadn't about what had been happening, he'd just left. In the middle of the night. Like a thief. She didn't see that she really hadn't given him a chance to do so.

She scowled at her thoughts and dried her eyes. Her personal life may have fallen apart but she still had her business and it was thriving. She'd had more high profile clients in the last six months than she'd had in the first five years. She'd survive if Neal left her and took Mozzie with him. She checked her inbox and smiled tightly. Out of the seven new emails, five were from clients asking for bids, one should have been sent to spam and the last was from Peter. She deleted that one unread.

WCWCWCWC

The next time Neal let himself in to the Brooklyn townhouse he found Elizabeth in Peter's old recliner, an empty bottle of wine on the coffee table next to a half full one and a full glass in her hand. “So, how's Christie?” she asked. “I assume that's where you've been. Fucking you caretaker.” She made quotes around the last word.

Neal discarded half a dozen retorts and said calmly, “I've been staying at June's. Call her if you want.”

Elizabeth snorted derisively. “She's as good a liar as you are,” she said. Neal braced himself on the chair's arms. “You will never speak so disrespectfully of her again, Elizabeth,” he said. “And if your goal is to drive me away then you've just succeeded. I love you but I refuse to tolerate this.” He straightened and turned to go upstairs, making the decision then and there to get as many of his things as he could – he'd ask Moz to get the rest – because he wasn't coming back, not if Elizabeth was determined to go down that road.

“Where are you going?” Elizabeth demanded when he came back downstairs, carrying a couple suitcases.

“I'm leaving,” Neal said. “I can't stay here and be accused of things I'd never do. I can't stay here with you when you're like this. IF you want to talk, I'll be at June's. “It's up to you.” He sighed. “I'll have Moz get the rest of my things. Take care Elizabeth.” The last thing he heard was glass hitting the door as he closed it behind him.

On his way to June's, he called Moz and asked him to pack up the rest of his things when it was convenient – which Moz knew meant when Elizabeth was gone, preferably on the west coast.

“I assume it's over then,” Moz said.

“That's up to her.”

“Satchmo and Louis?”

“I'll talk to June,” Neal said. “Bugsy should mind. If so, I can take them with me next time I go see Peter. Elizabeth probably won't be home enough to care for them.”

“Maybe you should do that anyway,” Moz said. “Satchmo was as much Peter's dog and Elizabeth's and he left Louis here for Satchmo.”

Neal sighed. “One thing at a time, all right Moz? I'll be at June's if you need anything.”

He sat outside June's for a while, trying to calm his thoughts. He needed to talk to Peter – no, he needed to see Peter. He pulled out his phone, scrolled through the contacts and dialed the office.

“Caffrey Security.”

“Carla, look through my schedule and tell me what's on deck,” he said.

“Yes sir, just a minute.”

He heard keystrokes in the background as he waited for Carla to pull up the information. IF his mind had been clearer he wouldn't have had to ask.

“Sir, you have to consults and one security detail scheduled for next week.”

“Who's the security detail for?”

“Burke Premier Events at the Channing.”

He was tempted to cancel that one, considering the state of things between himself and Elizabeth at the moment but that seemed petty. And it wasn't like he had to be there. He had a good team. They knew what they were doing – they should since Jones and Diana had volunteered to train them.

“And the consults?”

“Mr and Mrs. Campos on Tuesday and Mrs. Hardwick on Friday.”

“Nothing for the rest of the week?”

“No sir.”

Neal let out a breath. “I'll be out of town for the rest of the week,” he said. “And unless it's a life threatening emergency, I don't want to hear anything from you, all right?”

“Going to see your friend?”

“Yeah. And I just need some space.”

“All right. Have a safe trip.”

His next call was to Mozzie, telling him where he'd be and he was welcome to join him if he wanted Moz declined, stating he'd met his quota for fresh air and open spaces for the month. “When are you leaving?”

“Probably tomorrow,” he said. “Today's been...exhausting.”

“The dogs?”

“Bring them here when you go walk them,” Neal said. “I'll take them with me.”

“Elizabeth won't be happy.”

“Elizabeth isn't happy now,” Neal said. “The dogs shouldn't have to suffer because things are tense between us.”

“All right. See you tomorrow.”

His last call was to Christie, telling her he'd b e there the next day. She assured him everything would be ready when he got there and he made a mental not to stop by The Greatest Cake for the cupcakes she'd requested and his favorite wine shop to pick up a few bottles.

WCWCWCWC

Neal almost went straight to Peter's when he got to Greenhill, he needed to see him so badly but went instead to his place. “Hate to drop and run,” he said. “But I have a delivery to make. I'll be back in time for dinner.”

“Just us or will John be joining us?”

“He'll be joining us if I have to drag him here,” Neal said, smiling for the first time in days – not the conman's smile he'd used so effectively for so many years but a small, genuine one.

I”ll put these things away while you're gone,” Christie said, indicating the bakery box, wine and his suitcases.

“Thanks. You're a saint,” Neal said.

Five minutes later, he was pulling into the gravel drive, opening the doors after clipping on Satchmo's and Louis' leashes. Before he could knock, the door opened.

“Neal? What are you doing here? And with the dogs?”

He was surprise but stepped aside, allowing Neal and the dogs in, waiting while the leashes were unclipped. “Neal?”

“It's Elizabeth,” Neal said.

“What? What is it?” he asked, a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. “Is she...?”

“No, nothing like that,” Neal said, shaking his head.

“Then what?”

“She's changed, Peter,” Neal said, dropping to sit on the couch. “She's been distant, she's become... hard. I had to leave.” He swallowed past the tightness in his throat. “I don't know her anymore. She's not our Elizabeth.”

He said nothing as he sat beside the younger man, gathering him in his arms and holding him until he relaxed.

“I'm going to let the dogs out,” he said. “I have the feeling this is going to take a while.”

“Shit,” Neal said. “I didn't bring anything for them.”

“Not a problem,” he said. “I'll Ask Christie to get what they need and bring it over.” Once he'd done that, he asked Neal to tell him everything. It took almost two hours and he just listened.

“I had to leave,” Neal said. “I couldn't stay there, not with her like that. And I couldn't leave Louis and Satchmo there either. I just couldn't”

“Of course not” he said. “I'm glad you brought them. Been missing them both actually.” He pulled the younger man against him, feeling him once again relax. “So, you're moving back into your old place?”

“Temporarily,” Neal said. “Just until I can find another place.”

“So it's over?”

Neal took a minute to reply. “Yeah, I think it is,” he said.

He'd never admit it but part of him was glad. Now he wouldn't have to share the brilliant, beautiful man in his arms. But he did have one question. “Do you blame me?”

“No, of course not,” Neal said. “True, things weren't the same after you left but something changed her. I couldn't see any of the old Elizabeth. She reminded me a little of Agent Rice – self centered and cruel.”

“Does she blame me?”

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure she does,” Neal said. He pulled back a little, reaching up to cradle his face.

He sighed as Neal caressed his face then brought their mouths together in a kiss that was more than chaste but less than sensual, their tongues intertwining and felt Neal relax completely.

Neal broke the kiss, resting his head against the other man's and closed his eyes. “I really needed that,” he said with a sigh.

“Better?”

“Much,” Neal said. He pulled himself together and separated himself from him. “I told Christie that you'd be joining us for dinner.”

“I don't have a choice?” he asked, brows raised

“No, you don't,” Neal said.

“So how long are you in town?” he asked as they stood.

“I don't have anything until next Tuesday, so I'm good. You?”

“Duty tomorrow,” he said as he let the dogs back in. He made sure their dishes were filled before they left.

“They aren't going to be a problem, are they?” Neal asked, suddenly concerned.

“No, of course not,” he said. “Wanted to get another dog since I came back but never got around to it. They'll be fine.”

WCWCWCWC

He could tell Christie noticed Neal's rather subdued demeanor during dinner and she gave him an inquiring look. “Later,” he mouthed while Neal was getting the after dinner coffee.

“You're sure Louis and Satchmo won't be any trouble?” Neal asked.

He waved him off. “No trouble at all,” he said. “I understand why you brought them with you.”

Neal settled back into a club chair as he and Christie took the couch. He could see the last of the tension drain fro the younger man. “So, what are your plans while you're here?”

Neal shrugged – always an elegant motion – and said, ”Don't have any really. A bit of R and R.” He was quiet for a few minutes. “I can see why you like it here,” he said. “It's quiet, laid back... less drama.”

“Neal Caffrey? Has had too much drama?” he asked a little teasingly.

Neal's mouth quirked in amusement. “Well, there's drama and then there's drama.”

“Well, relax while you're here,” he said. “Get to know the town better, check out the shops, paint a little.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Christie said. “A new wine shop just opened up. Thought you might want to check it out.”

“Yeah, on the corner of Magnus and Wilcox.”

“Just down from the bookstore?” Neal asked. “Are you two suggesting some retail therapy?”

“Works for women,” he said. “Why not?”  
Neal chuckled. “Yeah, why not?” He sighed, then stood. “If you don't mind, I'm going to turn in. It's been a long few days. Stay as long as you like. Mi casa es su casa.”

“And this time it actually is,” he said.

“Can't help bringing up old cases, can you?”

“Well, there are four years worth,” he said. “Go. Get some rest.”

Once Neal disappeared upstairs, Christie looked at him, her concern evident. “I know I don't know him that well but even I can tell he usually isn't like this.”

“Like he said, it's been a long few days for him,” he said. “He's having major problems at home and needed to get away, clear his head.”

“Anything I can do?” Christie asked.

“Just be there if he'll let you,” he said. “Listen. Despite his charm, he doesn't have many friends, not many people he can really talk to. And I might be betraying a confidence but he's had too many people leave h im or be taken from him so he tends to guard himself.”

“Because of his childhood?” Christie asked. When he raised a brow, she added. “He never says much about it. He's only said he grew up in St. Louis and his dad was a cop.”

“Honestly, that's about all I know,” he said. “I know almost everything about him, learned while I was busy chasing him around the world. Hell, I knew how he took his coffee to what time he got up in the morning but could never find out much from before he turned eighteen.” He wasn't about to tell her that Neal's father had been a dirty cop – he knew how she'd react to that – who was guilty of not one but two murders, one of which was almost pinned on him and that he'd grown up in WitSec to protect him and his mother from members of the Boston mob.

“I'll do what I can,” Christie said.

“He'll appreciate that,” he said “I'll appreciate it.” He stood. “I'm gonna head home since I suddenly have two dogs to care for.”

“How'd that happen?”

“That trouble Neal's having at home? HE didn't want the dogs to get caught up in it so he brought Louis with him along with his girlfriend's dog.”

“How'd he get Louis?”

“Remember when I left for that six months? He took Louis in since the place I was living had a no-pets policy.”

“And his girlfriend's dog?”

“She's too busy to look after him.”

“Have a good night,” Christie said. “I'll probably see you tomorrow since I'll be working and I know it's grocery day for you.”

“All right. See you then. Good night.”

WCWCWCWC

As she'd said, he did see Christie the next day when he did his shopping after he finished his shift but he saw Neal as well as he strolled through the downtown area. “Find anything interesting?”

“That wine shop Christie mentioned? Had some surprisingly good vintages,” Neal said, lifting the bag he carried. “Got a few bottles for my stock.” He looked sidewise at him. “So what brings you out here? On duty? Because I promise I didn't do anything.”

“Just got off shift,” he said. “And don't be such a wiseass.”

“I thought you liked my ass,” Neal said, smirking a little.

He rolled his eyes but chuckled. “You know I do,” he said. “Among other things...”

“Really? Care to share?”

“Doing anything for the next few hours?”

“Nothing I can't put off. Why? What'd you have in mind?”

“You're a smart guy. You figure it out,” he said with a slight smirk. He gave Neal a mock salute and went to his car. “See you soon.”

“You'll pay for that!”

“Counting on it!” he called back before heading home.

He smiled, hearing a car pull into his drive less then half an hour later, followed shortly by a knock.

“C'mon in Neal,” he called.

The door opened and Neal stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Even from where he sat, he could see Neal's eyes, blown with desire and his obvious arousal.

“Now,” Neal said softly, climbing into his lap. “What did you have in mind?” Before he could answer, Neal sealed his mouth with his own, his tongue delving deep. Neal withdrew, nipping lightly at his lips. “Was that close?” he asked softly.

“That was close,” he said a little breathlessly. “But you're not close enough.” He pulled Neal closer, his hands cupping his ass and claimed his mouth.

“You know, this would be a lot more fun if we were horizontal,” Neal said, breathing in his scent.

“I don't know,” he said. “I think this is fun.”

“I said more fun...and naked,” Neal said. “You have too many clothes on for my liking.” He reached between them and deftly unfastened their flies. “Mmm, what's this?” Neal asked throatily, wrapping a slim hand around both their lengths.

“You know I'm going to fuck you with it, don't you?” he whispered in Neal's ear and felt him shiver.

“God, I hope so,” Neal said before latching onto his neck. He pulled away with a faint pop. “Clothes. Off. Bed. Now,” he said, pulling him to his feet.

Somehow they managed to shed their clothes and make it to the bedroom without injuring themselves, especially since Neal refused to release his mouth. He toppled back onto the bed and Neal straddled him, stroking them both. “Neal...”

“Bedtable drawer?”

He choked out a laugh. “Where else?” He got impossibly harder while Neal prepared himself and he thought he'd explode when Neal slowly lowered himself onto him.

“Oh God,” Neal moaned, holding very still. “I don't think I'll ever get tired of this.”

“If you want this to last,” he said, sounding strained. “Don't you dare move.”

Neal took his hands which had clamped on his hips and brought a palm to his lips. They remained like that for endless minutes until Neal said, “If I don't move it's going to be over.” Slowly, he raised himself until he was almost free before sinking down again. Little by little, he increased speed, the only sounds in the room those of harsh breathing accompanied by the sound of flesh meeting flesh. He freed a hand from Neal's grasp and began stroking him. Neal looked at him, his eyes blown almost black as he rode him and he could see the second the younger man lost control. Neal froze, his breathing ragged as he erupted in his hand and he followed right after.

“Was that what you had in mind?” Neal asked, laughing softly when they'd caught their breath.

“Something like that,” he said.

“But it was close.”

“Close enough.”

Neal sighed then reluctantly dismounted to lay beside him, his head on his chest. “That's what I really needed.”

They were quiet for a few minutes then he said, “Do me a favor.” When Neal looked up at him, he said,” Let Christie be there for you... not that way, just as a friend.”

“Why?”

“Because it would be good for you,” he said. “You should have more then me and Moz to talk to – someone who wasn't on one side of the law or the other.”

“Someone...normal?”

“You could say that.”

“Sounds nice,” Neal said.

He nudged him. “Let's get cleaned up,” he said.

“Can I blow you in the shower?” Neal asked mischievously.

He chuckled. “Let me recover first.”

Their shower wasn't entirely chaste but it wasn't round two. After they dried off and dressed, they let the dogs out and followed them to sit in the loungers after he grabbed a beer for each.

“Satchmo seems to like it out here,” Neal said as they watched Satch follow Louis around the yard, laughing a little when the yellow lab caught sight of a squirrel and gave a “what the hell was that?” tilt to his head.

“He's been a city dog all his life but he'll get used to it,” he said. He paused a few moments then asked, “Elizabeth doesn't know you have them?”

“She might know now,” Neal said. “I had Moz bring them over to June's on their walk, I loaded them in the car and came here.”

“She'll be pissed,” he commented.

“Probably but Moz can take care of himself.”

“I'm aware.”

Faintly the heard a phone ring. “That's mine,” Neal said, getting up. He got it but not in time to prevent it from rolling to voicemail. He went back, dialing to retrieve the message from Elizabeth. “Wanna hear?” he asked then played the message when he shrugged.

“Neal! You son of a bitch! Where the hell are my dogs? You'd better call me as soon as you get this.”

Neal held up a finger to request his silence and called her, leaving it on speaker. “Elizabeth,” he said calmly.

“Dammit Neal, where are the dogs?”

“They're safe,” Neal said.

“That's not what I asked,” Elizabeth said, irritated.

“That's all I'm telling you,” Neal said. “Did you really think you'd be home enough to take care of them?”

“That's what Moz is for or I could put them in a kennel.”

“Moz has his own life and he was looking after them as a favor to us. Yeah you could kennel them but since you're gone so much, they'd spend most of their time there. Tell me I'm wrong.”

There was silence on the other end and there was a wealth of accusation in her voice when she said, “You gave them to that bitch Christie, didn't you?”

He felt Neal grab his wrist when he went for the phone. Neal shook his head and addressed Elizabeth. “No I didn't give them to Christie and if you ever speak of her that way again, you'd better lose my number,” he said warningly. “I won't tolerate it. The dogs are safe and being cared for, that's all you need to know. Goodbye Elizabeth.” Before she could reply he disconnected and tossed the phone to the end of the lounger. “See what I mean?”

“Yea.”

“You know, she actually accused me of sleeping with Christie,” Neal said.

“Yeah, me too,” he said. “Not in so many words but she definitely implied it. Asked me if I'd traded her in on a younger model. Then she accused me of taking your side in this whole mess.”

“I don't think 'mess' quite covers it,” Neal said, twining their fingers. He regarded the other man for a moment. “Were you taking my side?”

“I was trying to explain what she was doing to you,” he said. “She didn't want to hear it.”

“She wasn't too happy with me the other week when she was up here,” Neal said.

“When she tried to barge into your house?”

Neal nodded. “I told her to leave Christie out of it, said she was a sweet girl... then she called me one of the biggest womanizers in New York.”

“You have to admit you tended to flirt,” he said.

”I just flirted,” Neal said. “That didn't mean I wanted to bed every woman I talked to.”

“I know that,” he said. “You were practically celibate those four years.”

“Yeah,” Neal said slowly. “Only two really. Sara... and Rebecca.”

He saw the younger man's eyes darken and tipped his chin up. “She had us all fooled, Neal,” he said gently. “Don't beat yourself up over it.”

Neal shook off the mood. “Well, if you think about it, she did give us our in to the Panthers,” he said.

“Indirectly, I suppose,” he said. “It was really your break-in to Woodford's office that did it.”

Neal gave a soft huff of amusement. “You know Moz didn't stop talking about that diamond for a week,” he said. “You know he wanted to steal it.”

“Doesn't surprise me.”

“But I pointed out that if it went missing we'd be the prime suspects. So, what happened to it?”

“State didn't see fit to tell me.”

Neal regarded him a moment. “You really don't miss it?”

He considered the question, absently observing as the dogs continued to explore the yard. “I think most days I miss the people more than the job,” he said. “I didn't like the frauds, scams and embezzlement cases any more than you did. They were part of the job and had to be done.”

 

“They ask about you,” Neal said. “On the occasions they call me in.”

“They know?”

“A few, like Jones.”

“Still getting Harvard grads as probies?” he asked, brows raised in amusement. “And did Jones get in trouble for using Bureau resources to find someone who wasn't actually missing?”

“Technically you were missing since no one knew where you were,” Neal said. “And if he got in trouble, he didn't tell me. And the probies are...well, probies. And enough stories are circulating that you're practically a legend in the division.”

He raised a skeptical brow. “Really?”

“Well... half a legendary team,” Neal amended. “Our clearance rate was the best in the Bureau. Not to mention all those high profile cases we closed, like the Panthers. That alone would have guaranteed legendary status.”

“I admit watching you work was fun,” he said.

“You'd seen me work before,” Neal said. “Plenty of times.”

“But not like that.”

Neal was quiet for a while, absently scratching Louis when the dog laid down beside him. “When Woodford had you at gunpoint... I don't think I'd ever been that scared,” he said. “Except when you'd been poisoned.”

“I think the reason he didn't pull the trigger is because I flattered him. Saying I was inspired by one of his heists to pull my own...”

“Allegedly,” Neal put in.

“Well, it stroked his ego,” he finished.

“Stroked?” Neal asked, looking pointedly at the other man's groin.

“Libido still on overdrive?” he asked.

Neal laughed and he felt a stirring at the sound. He'd always loved hearing Neal laugh and it was good to hear it after what he'd been through in the last few days. “I still have time to make up for,” he said.

They sat in companionable silence for a while then he asked, “So, what will you do now?”

“About?”

“The situation at home. This thing with Elizabeth.”

Neal sighed. “I don't think there is a thing with her any more. You heard her earlier. As for what I'll do... June said I could stay with er for as long as I need to or even move back in if I want. But for the next few days, I'll stay here, get to know Christie better – just as a friend - and try to get you naked as often as I can.” 

The smile he gave him after that last was almost pure sex and he felt the blood rush to a point south of his belt buckle. Without quite realizing he was going to do it, he pulled Neal into his lap, one hand cupping his head while the other dropped to his groin as he ravaged Neal's mouth. He felt Neal's hands on his shoulders, gripping almost painfully as he returned the kiss, hips bucking up against his hand as he strove for more friction. He obliged by freeing Neal's cock from the confines of his slacks and stroked him with a firm grip. He kept him on the edge, until Neal was writhing uncontrollably, almost desperate for release. He was close himself with Neal's ass rubbing against him.

“Peter... please,” Neal gasped.

That did it – the breathless plea went straight to his cock and he smothered his cry of release in Neal's mouth. Neal stiffened, his hands gripped his shoulders painfully and he echoed his release.

As Neal was catching his breath, his phone rang and he frowned, thinking it might be Elizabeth again. His expression cleared when he saw it was Christie. “Yeah Christie?”

“Just getting off work,” she said. “Anything you want me to get while I'm here?”

“No, got everything I need,” Neal said.

“All righty, see you in a few.”

“So I have maybe twenty minutes to get home and cleaned up.” Neal said.

“Good thing you're only about ten minutes away then, isn't it?”

“You want me to take the dogs?”

“Nah, they're fine,” he said. He indicated the two dogs who gave every appearance of chilling out under a tree.

“All right. See you tomorrow?”

“I'll be here.”

WCWCWCWC

Neal beat Christie back but just barely. HE was upstairs when he heard the front door close. “Be down in a minute!” he called, pulling on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.

“No hurry!”

He found her in the pantry, pulling out various items and setting them on the counter. When she pulled a tub of ricotta cheese out of the fridge, he asked, “Lasagna?”

“My mom's recipe,” she said. “Used to make it for my dad once or twice a month.”

“Need any help?”

“I got this.”

“You sure?”

“Get. I'll tell you when it's done.”

He graciously bowed out of the kitchen and went upstairs to grab a sketchbook and his pencils, deciding to do some sketching while Christie was busy. He settled into a chair in the back and cleared his mind. He didn't know how much time had passed when he became aware of someone behind him and looked back to see Christie.

“Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt you,” she said.

“You didn't,” he said as she sat next to him.

“Who's the other dog? I recognize Louis,” she said.

“Satchmo.”

“Your girlfriend's dog? John told me you're having problems.”

“Yeah, we are,” Neal said, looking off into the distance.

“She was the one who was up here a couple weeks ago?”

“Elizabeth.”

“I heard her call you a womanizer.”

“I'm not,” Neal said. “Never was/ I admit to flirting quite a bit. Came in handy in my old line of work but I've actually had very few girlfriends. Most of the women I know I either met during the course of a case or working with John.”

“Other agents?”

“A couple,” Neal said. He smiled. “One was not interested at all. Mostly because she'd studied me. Did her thesis at Quantico on the life and times of Neal Caffrey, con man extraordinaire. The other wasn't interested in me or in any man. No, I'm not a womanizer. I enjoy a woman's company, how they look. I appreciate them but I don't go for having flings or one night stands. Not since Kate.”

“Can I ask...?”

“She's the one I broke out of prison for. The one who died.”

“Plane crash.”

“More like plane explosion,” Neal said. “But that's a long, complicated story I'd rather not get into right now.” He turned back a few pages and showed her the sketch. “But I will say it involved this.” On the page were two drawings of a box – one closed, showing cherubs at each corner and what looked like a smaller box on top and the other, the box was open, showing the comb and cylinder of a music box. He watched as she examined the sketch then raised his brow in question.

“I think the sketch is fantastic,” she said. “But the box, I think, looks clunky, tacky and well... ugly.” She shrugged. “I assume it's valuable.”

“Yes, it's valuable,” Neal said. “Mostly, I think, because of what it's made of and who it belonged to. But yeah, not the most aesthetically pleasing to look at.”

“I imagine there's a story behind it,” she said but didn't press.

“There tends to be a story behind most of the things I did back then,” Neal said wryly.

“Do you miss that life?”

“Sometimes,” Neal admitted. “It had its share of excitement but the uncertainty, that I don't miss.”

“So, thief, forger, con man,” Christie said, settling back. “What's the biggest thing you've pulled off?”

“Depends on how you define big,” Neal said. “Size? Value? Complexity?”

“Value.”

Neal thought about it – the job that took down the Panthers came to mind since the haul had been worth half a billion but they hadn't actually gotten away with it. And he shied away from what had been on the U-boat. “That's hard to say,” he said. There was one job that John and I were undercover for that would have netted half a billion dollars. But before that, before I went to prison... well, the big fish I went after tended to get away.”

“So how many types of artist are you?” 

“Besides con artist?” Neal asked, amused. He chuckled when Christie rolled her eyes. “I do a bit of sketching – obviously – some painting and I dabble in sculpting.”

“Sounds like DaVinci.”

“I'm flattered,” Neal said. “My offer to paint your wall still stands, if you want.” He regarded her a moment, an idea forming. “Where's one place you've always wanted to go? Hawaii? Rio? Where?”

“The Grand Canyon,” Christie said. “I know, sounds pedestrian.”

“Not at all, “Neal said. “It's gorgeous, awe inspiring and even a little intimidating. Nature is the ultimate artist and I don't thing enough people appreciate that.”

“I imagine you've seen your share of sights,” Christie said.

Neal settled back in his chair. “I h ave,” he said. “Venice, Copenhagen, Paris, Rome... all with a very determined FBI agent on my tail.”

“You miss the chase?”

“Sometimes,” Neal admitted. “Or maybe the adrenaline rush, knowing someone as smart as me was one step behind and closing in, trying to out-think me. I got some of that working with John, going after people like me, coming up with cons...stings...in order to catch them.”

“So you were still a con artist, only legally.”

“Yeah,” Neal said. “”John's a good con himself. Comes in handy going undercover. Putting on a different persona, using a different name in order to get what you're after, whether it be a painting or evidence to put someone behind bars. So, tell me about Christie Eldridge.”

“Born in upstate New York, moved here when I was ten, after Dad took early retirement from the county PD.”

“Why early retirement?”

“Bum knee from chasing some kid after a B&E, couldn't pass the physical eval.”

“What else?”

“Started working at the store when I was sixteen, bagging groceries. Been there since only now I've moved up to cashier and assistant manager.”

“And in your spare time?”

“Read mostly,” Christie said. Her mouth quirked as she added, “Rearrange the furniture. Drove Dad nuts when I kept changing the furniture in the living room around. I think he was seriously considering nailing everything down.”

“And you like to cook, right?”

“Yeah, occasionally,” Christie said. “Like today and when I have the ingredients I need.” She checked her watch. “Speaking of which, we have about forty five minutes until it's ready.” She indicated the sketch book. “May I?”

He handed it over and watched as she paged through it, noting her expressions. He knew exactly which one she was looking at when her brows shot up and she looked at him, the question plain.

“Yeah,” was all he said. “For about six years now.”

“I'd never have pegged either of you for that but...” She shrugged.

“Most people can't get their heads around that kind of relationship,” he said.

“So you and John aren't just friends.”

“Not just,” Neal said. “I mean, we are friends but we're more.”

“If I'm getting into forbidden territory, tell me but your girlfriend...?”

“Is John's ex-wife,” Neal said. “They divorced a few years ago. And I admit it was partly my fault.”

“And now it's over for all of you. Must have been a major blow up if John moved here from New York.”

“No, no blow up,” Neal said. “It just... sort of ended.” He paused, seeming to study his hands. “We didn't take care of the relationship,” he said softly. “And John got the worst of the fall-out. Elizabeth and I tried to make it work after he left but I think you know how that worked out.”

“I would imagine it'd be hard to keep going when a relationship built with three loses one,” Christie said.

Neal sat back. “Most people would freak out or be disgusted. You're not.”

Christie shrugged. “What goes on in someone else's bedroom is none of my business,” she said. “And if everyone involved is okay with it, I don't see a problem. I don't want specifics. Don't need them. I can tell you want to patch things up with John and I hope you do. Since you've been visiting, he's been... happier like he's gotten something he was missing.” She checked her watch again and stood. “Dinner's almost ready.”

“I'll be in in a minute,” Neal said. “Just do me a favor, will you? Don't say anything about this to John, all right?”

“Not a word.”

WCWCWCWC

Over the next few days, Neal looked for any changes in Christie's demeanor when she was with him or with him and Peter but he couldn't find any – She treated them both as she always had. He came to the conclusion that she was either a very good con or she really wasn't bothered the relationship. When he asked her about it. She'd told him. “one of the guys at the store is gay and in a committed relationship. Yeah, there are some who have a problem with him but I'm not one of them. Neither is Dad.”

“John and I aren't gay.”

Christie shrugged. “So you're bi,” she said. “Comes down to the same thing really.” She placed a hand over his. “I think you're a great guy Neal and if you make John happy I think that's great. He deserves it. If people have a problem with how you make him happy then it's their problem.” She withdrew her hand. So,” she said, more businesslike. “you're going back to New York tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I have a consult on Tuesday. Hopefully they'll do as I suggest in a timely manner. A few weeks ago I had a client who got robbed because he was too slow in upgrading his security.”

“What'd they get?”

“About six million in art and almost three million in jewelry,” Neal said. “Security was so bad I think you could have pulled it off.”

“I'm not a thief.”

“Exactly.”

“So, let me get this straight. Someone calls you and asks you to assess their security and you...what?”

“I look at what they have in place – if anything – and I sort of go through a number of scenarios of how someone could get in, take what they're after and get out. I look for the holes. If there's not a camera at this entrance point, why not? Where are the entrance points? What would it take to bypass the alarms? Where are the blindspots for the cameras? How easy would it be to crack the safe? Yeah, I look for the obvious, most companies do but what makes me different is I look for what isn't obvious... I remember one job John and I worked. We were doing threat assessments for a number of banks in Midtown – how easy would it be to get in, bypass security, how vulnerable the employees were.”

“Physically?”

“No, how easy it would be to get their badges or keycards,” he said. “Anyway, this guy had hit banks all over the country and was headed to New York so it was my job to show the banks where the holes were. Turns out he did hit a bank in Midtown, took an employee hostage. John and I had to break in.”

“But you'd plugged the holes, right?”

“They thought so,” Neal said. “We went in from the roof. Most people don't look past the obvious – I do because I look at how I would pull a job... if I were going to. I don't mean to sound conceited but I've pulled off jobs that most would think couldn't be done and got away clean.”

“But you don't have any real security here,” Christie said.

“Right now, I don't see a need for it,” Neal said. “Greenhill isn't exactly a hotbed of crime and I don't have anything of real value here. It's not like I have a Matisse hanging in the living room.”

“But you could, couldn't you?”

“I suppose. If I did, it wouldn't be worth much since I'd have made it myself.” At her puzzled look, he added, “Forger, remember? It wasn't just bonds.” He leaned in a little conspiratorially. “There's a painting by an artist named Haustenberg in the Channing Museum that everyone thinks is genuine.”

“It's not?' Christie asked. “It's a forgery?”

“Technically, no,” Neal said. “The one in the Channing is a reproduction since I signed the back. The authentic painting is in the possession of the artist's great granddaughter, where he wanted it. The curator ignored Haustenberg's wishes that it go to his mistress so when he got the reproduction, he authenticated it so he wouldn't have to admit it and probably face a court battle.”

“How do you know what the artist wanted?”

“By the inscription on the back,” Neal said. “That's what gets a lot of forgers caught – they know the painting itself – most people do – but who really looks at the frame? Or the back?” He sat back. “And that's another thing I do on occasion – I authenticate art, tell my clients if they have the real deal or not.”

“Have you ever found any fakes?”

“A few,” Neal said then smiled a little wickedly. “One of them was one I'd done years ago. Some forgers sign their work – not in any obvious way – but if you know what to look for you can tell. That's how we caught the Dutchman. Anyway, I thought this particular painting looked familiar – outside it being one of the Masters – so I looked and there were mu initials, right where I put them.”

“Did you tell them?”

“Yeah, I did,” Neal said. “Not that I'd painted it but that it wasn't genuine.”

She studied him for a few minutes then asked, “Why'd you get into that life? The forgeries, the thefts, the can artist's life?”

“My father.”

“You said he was a cop,” she said. “Like mine.”

 

“My father was nothing like yours,” Neal said. “I grew up thinking he was some kind of hero, killed in the line of duty only to find out he was still alive. And dirty. He'd murdered his commanding officer and was in bed with the Boston mob. I figured, like father, like son. If he was dirty, a criminal then I must be one too.”

“That's not how it works, you know.”

“I know but by the time I accepted that, I'd been in the life for years, gone to prison for making a dishonest buck. If my father had been more like yours, more like John, I don't know where I'd be or who I'd be.”

“So where is he now?”

“I have no idea,” Neal said. “And honestly, I don't care.”

Christie let out a breath. “I don't know what I'd do without my dad,” she said. “And here you grew up without yours and then to find out he's dirty.”

“Well, I've made my peace with it,” Neal said. “John's been a great substitute even without the physical aspect. I can't tell you how many times he put his job on the line to keep me out of prison.”

Christie regarded him a moment. “There's a story there,” she said. “But I won't ask. Besides, it's getting late and you have a long drive ahead of you tomorrow.”

“Thanks.”

“What for?” Christie asked, curiously.

“For listening,” Neal said. “For not judging. Most people do, either my old line of work or what I have with John.”

“Well, you're out of that life now. You've gone straight. As for the rest... it's nobody's business. If you're happy and John's happy... that's what counts, right?”

WCWCWCWC

“Moz, what brings you here?” he asked as the other man stopped by his desk.

“I came to visit, believe it or not,” Moz said. “Also, Neal wants to ask you a favor.”

“He could have called,” he said.

“He also said I needed to get out of the city more,” Moz said. “I agreed.” He shrugged “I've found this place has grown on me a little.”

He sat back and studied the other man. He couldn't read him as well as he could Neal but he didn't see any prevarication. “So what's this favor for Neal?”

“He wants you to come to New York,” Moz said. At his raised brow Moz added hastily, “Not to stay. Just for a few days. And to bring Christie with you.”

“Okay, why?”

“Says he wants to surprise he,” Moz said. “Wouldn't tell me how but evidently he can't if she's at the house. You could show her around, see the sights... you know, touristy things.”

He thought about it, trying to see an angle but caught himself – Neal didn't do that anymore. If Neal wanted to surprise Christie then that's all it was. “I'll see what I can do,” he said.

“Just try not to spoil it, about the surprise.”

“I can pull a fair con myself, you know. I did learn from the best.”

“Well, when you find out, let Neal know,” Moz said as he stood.

As Moz turned to leave, he asked a bit hesitantly, “How's Elizabeth?”

“Busy.”

“You know what I meant.”

Moz sighed. “She goes home to an empty house every day,” he said. “With not even the dogs for company. Wondering how things got to this point.” He paused, looking a little sad. “She's not the Elizabeth we knew. She's cold, hard, bitter... and she's working herself too hard.”

He nodded, not surprised. “I'd like to help but I don't think she'd let me. I tried to get through to her the last time she was here but she wouldn't listen.”

“You've tried, I've tried, Neal's tried,” Moz said. “But if she won't listen, there's nothing we can do.”

He shook himself. “So, when does Neal want to do whatever he's planning?”

“Ah, he said he has a weekend free in two weeks,” Moz said.

He looked at his schedule and found he had that weekend free as well. “Looks good for me,” he said. “I'll talk to Christie – and Carl – and let you know. One question though.”

“it's on Neal's dime, “ Moz said. “He knew that would be a concern for you.”

“Nothing too fancy...”

“After all this time he knows what you'd be comfortable with.”

Just then his phone rang. “Well, speak of the devil,” he said. “Yeah, Neal.”

“Has Moz talked to you yet?”

“Standing right here. So what's this surprise?”

“I want to give Christie a Neal Caffrey original.”

“Can't you just bring it up with you the next time?”

“Not if it's going to be her bedroom wall.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I got the idea when I was up last. We had one of those 'get to know you' talks and I asked her the one place she's always wanted to go. She said the Grand Canyon.”

“So you're going to paint it on her wall.”

“That's the idea,” He could hear the uncertainty on the open line. “What do you think? Do you think she'll like it?”

“I think she'll love it, Neal,” he said.

There was relief in Neal's voice when he said, “Great. Moz told you the plan?”

“Yeah but I need to see if Christie can take the time,” he said. “I'll call you and let you know.”

 

“Do you think Carl can make it?”

“Personally, I doubt it, being chief and all,” he said.

“I just didn't want to make things weird between you two, you know?”

“I think it would take more than a few days of showing her around New York to make things weird,” he said.

“All right. Let me know if she can make it and I'll let you know the arrangements. Tell her to bring something dressy. You too.”

“Neal...”

“No place too fancy. I know you. Gotta go. Expecting a client soon. Love you.”

“Well?' Moz asked.

“He wants to give her a Neal Caffrey original,” he said. “One that covers her wall.”

Moz looked thoughtful. “Hmm, I don't think he's ever done a piece that big,” he said then shrugged. “It'll be a nice stretch for him. Did he say what it would be?”

“The Grand Canyon.”

“Ambitious.”

“When has Neal not been ambitious?”

“I see your point,” Moz said. “After all, his first real mark was Vincent Adler.”

He was just about to call Christie when he groaned. “The dogs...”

“I can watch them,” Moz said.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. They both know me. Shouldn't be a problem.”

WCWCWCWC

Later that evening he'd heard back from both Carl - “She's a grown woman John. If she wants to go then she can. I know you'll keep her out of trouble.” - and Christie - “New York? Are you serious? I'll get the time off even if I have to pay someone out of my own pocket!” - and texted Neal, who responded with the name of the hotel and suite number and informed him that the two of them had reservations at a restaurant near the hotel.

“How'd you know she'd get the time?” he asked when he called.

“I was optimistic.”

“Uh huh.”

“Okay, I may have talked to her manager before I left and asked very nicely if she could have that weekend off. It wasn't a con Peter... not much of one anyway. You know how persuasive I can be.”

“Oh, I know,” he said. “Do you think you can have it done in time?”

“Sure,” Neal said. “It's not like I'll be going for photorealism. IF I'd wanted that I'd have had it put on wallpaper.”

“Just curious. What view?”

“I was thinking from the Skywalk,” Neal said. “or maybe from the bottom. What do you think?”

“The Skywalk,” he said. “You'll be here when she sees it?”

“Every artist likes to see how his work is received,” Neal said. “If she doesn't like it, I'll paint over it.”

“She'll like it.”

WCWCWCWC

Going back to New York again wasn't like the last time. Last time he'd hoped to go back to a life with Neal and Elizabeth. This time he was going almost as a tourist. There was one moment he should have expected though; Christie asked if he'd show her where he'd worked in the Federal Building, meet some of the agents he'd worked with. He got around that by telling her - truthfully – that since he'd retired, he didn't have the clearance but if she came to the city with Neal she might be able to get the tour since he still consulted occasionally.

As he showed her the sights, he couldn't help smiling at her reactions. They hit the expected places – the Statue of Liberty, the 9/11 Memorial, the Empire State Building, Times Square – but he also showed her places that were significant to him and Neal. At one point, he showed her a bronze statue of a young girl playing a violin and told her how Neal had traded a two million dollar emerald ring for his freedom without a second thought.

“He was going to give it to his girlfriend as an engagement ring,” he said. “But she died before he could.”

“He really cares about you,” Christie said. “Not many people would give up something like that. Especially when there was no guarantee.”

“I know,” he said. “I care about him too.” He let out a huff of laughter. “He was a major pain in the ass at first, too cocky by half and tended to keep secrets when he shouldn't but I knew there was a good man under all the swagger. It just took him a while to believe it.”

“Yeah,” Christie said. “He told me about his dad, how he'd been a dirty cop.”

He was surprised that Neal had revealed that to a relative stranger but glad that he'd felt comfortable enough to do so. “I remember when he told me,” he said. “We'd just secured the release of a diplomat's son from a prison in Burma and he'd asked me “If I'm not my father's son then who am I?' I told him that just because his dad had been a criminal didn't mean he had to be.”

They sat in silence for a while then Christie suddenly asked, “Can we go to the Channing Museum?”

“Don't see why not. Any particular reason?” He stopped. “Neal told you about the Haustenberg, didn't he?”

“Yeah. He said it was a reproduction, not a forgery.”

“And you'd like to see his work.”

“Yeah,” Christie said. “He's working on something at home but I didn't want to snoop so I didn't look. I know some artists are picky about things like that.”

So he took her to see Neal's reproduction of Haustenberg's Young Girl With Locket at the Channing. “And it's just like the original?”

“According to the curator, it is the original” he said. “Neal got into something of a pissing match with him when the museum claimed ownership of the painting.”

“Neal said that Haustenberg wanted his mistress to have it but the curator ignored him,” Christie said. “That true?”

“That's what he told me,” he said. “And I believe him. One thing Neal's never done is lie to me outright. He's misdirected me, let me draw my own conclusions even if they were wrong but he's never lied.”

Christie nodded. “And these people won't know it's not genuine because they're not likely to look at the back. Neal said that's how a lot of forgers get caught.”

“You're not considering a life of crime, are you?” he teased.

“Christie grinned. “Not likely,” she said. “Dad would whip my ass six ways from Sunday if I stole so much as a candy bar. No, he told me when he told me about this.” She indicated the painting in front of them. She shook her head. “I knew he was good but this...” She caught his look and added, “He showed me some of his sketches last time he was up.”

“Of what?”

“One of Louis and Satchmo, a view he said he had from his old apartment, one of a music box.”

“He tell you about it?”

“Only that it was involved in the death of his girlfriend.”

“I'll let him tell you the story if he wants,” he said. “As for the box itself, it was covered in amber and had belonged to Katherine the Great.”

“So what other cases did you two work on?” Christie asked as they strolled down the street to their hotel.

“One of the earliest involved someone smuggling information on counterfeiting in a dress during Fashion Week,” he said. “There was the Haustenberg, one where we followed a rather complex treasure map and found the twin to the Hope Diamond.”

“An actual treasure map?” Christie asked skeptically.

“Not an actual map,” he said. “It was a series of clues from a rare book. We helped catch a dirty US Marshall once. Found a Book of Hours that has been around since the Plague, helped clear an Army captain accused of smuggling Iraqi antiquities into the country. We even recovered a T-rex skeleton and egg.”

 

“One of these days you two are going to sit down and tell me about all of these,” Christie said.

“Well, I'll probably have the time,” he said. “I don't know about Neal. He's pretty busy.”

“Any chance we can see him while we're here?”

“I think his schedule is pretty full up at the moment,” he said.

She looked at him a bit speculatively. “Is it true the two of you broke into a bank?” she asked.

“We didn't break in exactly,” he said. “It was being robbed and an employee was being held hostage. The crew had all the usual entrances covered, knew where all the cameras were so it was Neal's idea to go in through the roof. What he probably didn't tell you is the employee being held wasn't exactly a hostage – she was in on it.”

“Sounds like you had an interesting life here,” Christie said. “So why'd you leave for a sleepy town like Greenhill?”

He shrugged a little. “Like I told your dad, most of the work was mortgage fraud, investment scams, embezzlement and paperwork. It was just... boring, I guess. Since I was ASAC, I didn't get out in the field much, not like when Neal and I worked together.”

“And being a cop in Greenhill is exciting?”

He laughed softly. “At mu age, I can do without exciting.”

He was surprised when Christie gave him a light kiss of the cheek. “Thanks for this,” she said.

He gently squeezed the hand tucked in his arm. “I was glad to do it. I got to see the city in a way I haven't since I first moved here, so thank you.”

WCWCWCWC

Neal stood back, surveying his work as he armed sweat off his brow.

“Nice work, mon frere,” Moz said from behind him. “What's your source material?”

Neal tapped his temple. “Went there on the way to Vegas,” he said as he began cleaning his brushes. Moz spent a while, studying the painting that covered the wall across from Christie's bed. It showed a view of the Grand Canyon from the Skywalk and had taken most of the weekend to complete. Neal stepped closer, moving the stepladder aside and crouched down to sign the corner near the baseboard then began removing the painter's tape, wadding it up before disposing of it.

“When are they due back?” Moz asked as Neal set up the low power heaters to help speed the drying.

“Later this afternoon,” Neal said. “Join us for dinner? I have a nice bottle of Shiraz...”

“You talked me into it,” Moz said.

“I did or the wine did?” Neal teased.

Moz didn't deign to answer, just said, “You'd better clean up. I'm going over to Peter's to check on the dogs.”

As soon as Moz left, he began closing the paint cans, gathering his brushes and folded the drop cloth then transferred everything except his brushes to the mudporch before heading upstairs to shower and change. Once done, he went to check to see how the paint was drying and estimated it should be dry enough by the time Christie and Peter returned. Overall, he was pleased with his work – he'd never been into landscapes as a whole and certainly nothing like what graced the wall in front of him – but he was still somewhat anxious about Christie's reaction. Before heading to the kitchen, he opened the windows to help the heaters and to air out the room.

He'd just slid the rack of lamb into the oven when his phone rang. “Peter, how'd things go?”

“She loved it. Is it done?”

“Finished a few hours ago,” Neal said. “Should be dry enough by the time you get here. I'll check in a bit. And I hope you're hungry. Dinner should be done not long after.”

“Sounds good. We sho8uld be back in about an hour.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

He'd just finished prepping the rest of the meal when the front door opened.

“Something smells good.”

“Almost finished,” he called. “John, can you help me set the table? For four. Moz is going to be here too.”

“Need help with anything else?” Christie asked from the kitchen door.

“Nope, got it covered,” Neal said. “Go ahead and get your stuff put away. Still have a few minutes before we're done.”

They waited for Christie to start down the hall then followed her to her room, almost bumping into her when she stopped short at the door.

“Neal... oh my God.” She turned to look at him wide-eyed. “You did this? For me?”

“Maybe one day you can go see the real thing,” Neal said. “Until then, I hope this is okay.”

“It's gorgeous.”

“This is one reason I took you to New York,” he said. “So Neal could surprise you.” As Christie took a closer look, he leaned in to whisper in Neal's ear, “You did good. I told you she'd like it.”

“Well, you know how I am about my own work,” Neal said.

He stepped over to stand beside Christie, taking a closer look himself. He'd never been to the Canyon but he'd seen pictures of it and the scene in front of him more than did it justice. “I doubt you know this but not many people have a Neal Caffrey original,” he said. “And no one has anything like this.”

“But...why?”

He understood what she was asking. Why do this for her when she was still a relative strange? “Because you're his friend,” he said. “You're someone who will listen and not judge. You trust him even after knowing what he was and he thinks you're special.”

“C'mon you two, dinner's gonna get cold,' Neal said from the doorway.

During dinner, Neal steered the conversation away from the mural he'd painted by asking Christie about her trip to New York, exchanging a few glances with his partner when she described the out of the way places they'd been. “You took her to the Channing?” he asked

“She wanted to see your reproduction,” he said.

“You know, I asked John if we could see you while we were there but he said you were busy,” Christie said.

“I was, just not with a client,” Neal said. He busied himself, pouring a glass of wine. “So, you like it?” he asked, his tone almost – but not quite – casual.”My wall? I love it,” Christie said. “It's almost like I'm actually there.” She looked at Peter, a little puzzled but he shook his head slightly.'If you didn't have your security business, I think you could make good money as an artist.”

“I've told him the same thing but he didn't believe me,” he said.

“You've seen my best work,” Neal said. “There's really no comparison between that and my own work.”

“I'm not having this discussion again, Neal,” he said. “I know you do good work and so does Christie. Accept the compliment.”

“Yes, sir,” Neal said with a touch of mockery.

He shot Neal a look when he felt a hand rest on his thigh briefly before it inched up and fingers lightly brushed his cock. Neal just gave him an innocent look and took a sip of his wine. “Later” said the look he gave him next.

WCWCWCWC

Neal leaned against the doorjamb of Christie's room and silently watched as she almost reverently touched the wall he'd painted.

“I don't think she'll ever get tired of looking at it,” he said in Neal's ear.

“It's the least I could do,” Neal said.

“Why did you?”

Neal was silent so long that he didn't think he would get an answer. He got one as they took seats in the living room. “She's the only one other than Kate who didn't judge me,” he said. “Not what I was. And she doesn't judge us.”

“She knows about us?”

“Yeah... she saw that sketch,” Neal said.

“Which one?”

“You, me and Elizabeth,' Neal said. “And not the G rated one either.” He looked at the other man uncertainly. “Should I not have told her?”

“A little late to object now,” he said, unconcerned.

“So you're not mad?”

“No, not mad,” he said. “She hasn't treated me any different than she did before. I assume she's been the same with you.”

“Yeah,” Neal said. “Just like she has from the beginning... like a friend.”

“Well, she's a smart girl,” he said. “And you haven't given her a reason to think you're anything other than what you are – a good man.” He patted the seat next to him and put his arm around Neal's shoulders, pulling him close against him. “So all you feel for her is friendship?”

“Jealous?” Neal teased.

“No, just looking out for her like I said I was going to,” he said.

“Yeah, just friendship,” Neal said, sobering. “I'm not ready for what we had with Elizabeth. I may never be ready for that again. But with Christie, I'm good with just friends.” He huffed with laughter. “And I don't think she's all that charmed by me.”

“Have you tried?”

“No,” Neal said. “Before I thought I had to at least try, you know but Christie's a little like June I think. June knew what I was when I first moved in and she accepted me – maybe because I reminded her of Byron – and Christie seems to accept me for who I am now. I don't think I have to pretend with her.”

“You don't have to pretend with anyone,” he said.

Neal shrugged. “I know,” he said. “But you know...habit.”

He settled back into the couch. “So, libido still in overdrive?”

“Hmm?”

“During dinner.”

“Oh,” Neal said. “You mean when I did this?” He drifted a hand over the older man's groin, smiling when he felt the reaction. “Seems I'm not the only one.”

He didn't respond, just took possession of Neal's mouth. Moments later, Neal climbed into his lap, rubbing sensuously against him.

“Neal...”

“Need you, Peter,” Neal breathed into his ear.

“Not here...”

“My room's right upstairs.” He pulled back a little. “I'm going back to New York tomorrow and I'm not sure when I can make it back.”

“I said not here. I didn't say no,” he said.

WCWCWCWC

In the kitchen, Christie and Moz paused in their discussion of why forgeries were considered less valuable than the originals. If both evoked the same feelings why should it matter who held the brush?

“How long have you known about them?” Christie asked as they listened to two sets of footsteps go upstairs.

“Almost from the beginning,” Moz said. “I wasn't too happy about it at first since John was a Fed but I finally admitted to myself that it was doing him good. I like John; he's a good man and he's good for Neal.”

“You've known Neal a long time.”

“Since he was an up and coming young con.” Moz said then considered his words. “No, when I met Neal, he was already good, just unfocused.”

“So you were his mentor.”

Moz shrugged. “One way to put it,” he said. “I recognized the talent he has and helped him focus it. He's brilliant, thinks like no one else I've ever met. He knew, almost intuitively, how to pull off a job. That helped when he was still a con and when he worked with the Feds.”

“So their relationship doesn't bother you anymore?”

“No, not any more,” Moz said. “I'm not one for coloring inside the lines, of bowing to convention.”

“And John's ex? You knew her?”

“Yeah,” Moz said. “I knew the woman she was. This situation changed her and not in a good way. She holds some responsibility for how things are but...” He shrugged.

“But she won't admit it,” Christie said.

“I don't think she wants to,” Moz said. “And she's a very strong willed woman.” He drained his glass and stood. “Since John's going to be occupied for the foreseeable future, I'm going to go check on the dogs.” He gave her a brief bow in goodbye and left.

WCWCWCWC

Christie sat on the end of her bed, knees drawn up under her chin, arms wrapped around her legs and gazed at the wall Neal had painted for her almost four years earlier,

“You're not tired of it yet?” Neal asked, leaning in the doorway.

Christie looked at him and smiled. “I still can't believe you did this,” she said. “And no, I'm not tired of it. Don't think I ever will be.”

“Well I have another for you...well, for you and your dad,” Neal said, sitting beside her.

“You don't have to...”

“I know, I know,” Neal said. “But last time I was up, I asked your dad for a picture. A picture of your mom.”

“What for?”

“So I could make it into a portrait,” Neal said.

“Why?”

“Because you and your dad are friends,” Neal said. “Two of the very few people who don't hold my past against me. Most people do or are not convinced I've left the life completely.” He put an arm around her shoulders. “So, tomorrow night. Dinner. You and your dad. No excuses. Okay?”

“Is that an order?” Christie asked, teasingly.

“I've never been able to give you one,” Neal said. “And I'm smart enough not to start trying.”

“Will John be here too?”

“He's in New York for a while,” Neal said. “Trying to patch things up with his ex.”

“You think they will?”

“I don't know,” Neal said. “I think there's too much negativity between them – mostly on her side. I just know he wants to try. They had a good marriage once – some would say the perfect marriage – but things with the three of us...”

“John told me what happened,” Christie said. “He also told me he really doesn't blame either of you for what happened.”

“Yeah, we all share the blame for that,” Neal said. “I'm just glad John let me try to make amends.”

“Oh, I think you've done more than that,” Christie aid, nudging him. “I remember when he and Dad first became friends. He always seemed a little sad. Then you started coming here and that sadness – most of it – went away.” She stood and pulled him to his feet. So, what have you planned for today?”

“Finish some sketches for the art festival this weekend,” Neal said as they left the room. “But right now I have to make sure Louis and Satchmo aren't getting into trouble.”

“I don't think Satchmo knows how,” Christie said.

“I don't know,” Neal said. “I think Louis is a bad influence.”

Christie let out a breath. “So, my turn to make dinner. In the mood for anything in particular?”

“You know I”d kill for your lasagna,” Neal said. “So... please?”

Christie laughed. “You know I can't say no to that puppy dog look of yours,” she said as she went to the kitchen.

“I learned it from Satch,” he said, heading upstairs.

“Don't go blaming the dog! I know better!” She smiled to herself, hearing his laughter drift down the stairs.

WCWCWCWC

So, how'd it go?” Neal asked as they sat out back, nursing a couple beers.

“It went about as I expected,” he said. “We did talk but she hasn't changed her mind. In fact she made it a point to let me know she's moved on.”

“So she's involved with someone now?”

“No one specific,” he said. “At least I don't think she is.”

“So we let her go. Completely,” Neal said.

“I think it's for the best,” he said. He grasped Neal's hand. “You okay with that?”

Neal drew a deep breath. “Yeah,” he said. “I think I expected it. You?”

“Yeah, me too,” he said. He pulled Neal into the lounger with him and wrapped his arms around his waist. “So, any plans for tonight?” he asked.

“Other than getting you naked and wearing you out? Not a one,” Neal said. “So, my place or yours?”

“Does it matter?”

“Not to me.” Neal said, pulling his head down for a long, languorous kiss.

Christie found them like that a awhile later and quietly left them alone, deciding dinner could wait a bit longer. It still surprised her, a little, when she came up on them in moments like that but as she'd told Neal those years ago, what went on in someone else's bedroom was none of her business. She loved John like an uncle and she was glad Neal made him happy and she knew, from what Neal had told her, that few people in his life stuck around long but John was one who had.

A few minutes later, she stuck her head outside. “If you two aren't too busy, dinner's ready.”

“Buzzkill,” Neal said, mock irritated but extricated himself. 

“You'll keep, won't you John? Besides, you love my chicken carbonara.”

Neal looked undecided, like he was caught between devouring the meal Christie made and devouring his partner.

“Go on,” he said. “As she pointed out, I'll keep.” He leaned in and added, “And then I'll wear you out.” Then nipped his ear.

Neal gave him a look – The Look. “We'll see,” he said.

 

“Yeah, we will,” he said. “Now go. You know how Christie gets.”

“Yeah, you both do!” Christie called. “Now get in here!”

“Yes ma'am! Coming!”

They exchanged a look, both amused and heated. They'd satisfy one hunger at dinner and the other later, in the privacy of Neal's bedroom.

**Author's Note:**

> In my view, Elizabeth is used to Peter giving her what she wants or at least acceding to her wishes. In this story, she becomes bitter and angry because Peter won't give her what she wants: another chance. He's understandably reluctant to do so after what happened before. Comments welcome.


End file.
